IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


V 


/. 


4r 


7 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


IM 

120 

1.8 


U    III  1.6 


V] 


<^     >^ 


^^m 


# 


(^ 


O 


7 


/]. 


^ 


^ 


w 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


§i. 


<F 


k 


,V 


\\ 


% 


rv^^ 


o^ 


l\ 


CIHM/ICMH 
Microfiche 


CIHIVI/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiq 


ues 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Nc'.es  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibiiographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6X6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  ddtails 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


D 


D 


□ 


D 


Couverture  endommagie 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul6e 


□    Cover  title  missing/ 
Le 


titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  b!eue  ou  noire) 


I      >    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmies. 


□ 

D 
D 

n 
m 
n 

n 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicuiies 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6coloi6es,  tachet6es  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachies 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualitd  indgale  do  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pagAs  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


D 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplimentaires; 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Oe  document  est  U\m6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

riH^HH 

12X 


16X 


»X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  gr§ce  d  la 
gdn^rositd  de: 

Biblicthdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  Fige  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  —^(meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method; 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film6s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comp.  rte  une  emoreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
origiriaux  sont  filmds  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Stre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Stre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  I'angle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

POPULAR    NOVELS. 

LY  MAY  AGNES  FLEMING. 


1. 

2. 

3. 

4. 

5. 

6. 

7.- 

8.- 

9.- 
10.- 
11.- 
12.- 

i.j. 


-GUT  EARLS(^()UI?T'S  WIFE. 

-A  woxDj;iii''ur.  wo.m'an. 

-A  TEKItlULE  SECRET. 

-NoniNE-s  ul:vi::>(;e. 

-A  .MAD  MAiailAGH. 
-ONE  NIGHT'S  MYSTERY. 
-KATE  DANTON. 
-SILENT  AND  TRUE. 
-IICiR  OF  CIIARI/rON. 
-CARRlin)  15Y  STURM. 
-LOST  FOR  A  WOMAN. 
-A  WIFE'S  TRAGEDY, 
-A  CHANGED  HEART 
-PRIDE  AND  PASSION  (New). 


"MrB.  Flcmin',''H  ptoric?  are  growin.u;  more  and  more 
popular  ovcry  day.    Tlifir  de!; negations  of  charactor, 
life-like   conviT,«atioii.=i,   flashes  of   wit,  con- 
HtaiUly  varying  scenes,  and  deeply  inter- 
esting plotii,    cotubiiio    to    placo 
their  author  in   the  very 
first  rank  of   Modern 
Kovelists." 


All  published  nniform  with  this  volamo.    Prlco,  $1.50 
each,  and  sent  free  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price, 


BY 


G.  W.   CARLETON   &  CO.,  Publishers 
New  York. 


Pride  and  Passion. 


^  NoucL 


BY 

MAY    AGNES    FLEMING, 

AUTHOR  or 

GUY       EARLSCOURt's       WIFE,"       "  A      IF.RRIDLE      SECRET," 

"A    WOXnr.RFL'L    WOMAN,"     "  ONF-    MGHT's   MYSTERY," 

"silent    and    TRUE,"     "A    MAD    MARRIAGE," 

'*  LOST   FOR   A   WOMAN," 

ETC.,    ETC. 


"  I  know  not,  I  ask  not 
If  ^-^uilt's  in  th}'  heart ," 
I  but  know  that  I  love  thee. 
Whatever  thou  art." 

— Moore. 


^, 


NEW    YORK: 

Copyright,  1SS5,  by 

G,   W,   Carleton  &  Co.,  Publishers. 

LONDON  :     S.    LOW,    SON    &   CO. 
Mnccri.xxxiT. 


Stereotyped  by 
Samukl  Stodukr, 

ELKCTnoTYI'EIt  &  StKUKOTVI'KR, 

W)  Ann  (Street,  N.  V. 


Trow 

PniNTINO  AND  BOOK-BINDINO  Co. 

N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

PAOS 

I.  Tlie  Mermaid ^ 

II.  The  Lone  House 25 

m.  An  Escape go 

IV.  Fontclle ^g 

V.  Jack  De  Vere qj 

VI.  The  Secret 73 

VII.  The  Midniglit  Music 83 

VIII.  The  Vendeita    95 

IX.  Jacinto  , -.Qg 

X.  A  IMystery J24 

XI.  Captain  Disbrowe  makes  a  Discovery l;59 

Strange  Meeting 15;} 

iimasked jrjrQ 

ide  and  Passion Igl 

Queen  Uncrowned 20)i 


XIII. 
XIV. 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XVI.  The  Story  in  the  Lone  Inn 220 

XVII.  The  End  of  the  Story 233 

XVIII.  A  Woman's  Nature 248 

XIX.  Little  Orrie 2G1 

XX.  A  Proud  Heart  Crushed 267 

XXL   "He  Giveth  His  Beloved  Bleep " 285 

XXIL  The  Lonely  Grave 299 

XXIIL  Over  the  Sea. 314 

XXIV.  Norma  326 

XXV.  Oil  with  the  Old  Love 345 

XXVI.  A  Secret  Sorrow 354 

XXVII.  Resurgam 373 

XXVIIL  The  Actress  and  the  Earl 383 

XXIX.  An  Old  Foe 395 

XXX.   "  All  Things  Hath  an  End  " 406 


PEIDE    AND    PASSIOK 


CIIAPTEIl  I. 


THE     MERMAID. 

"  Whoe'er  has  traveled  life's  dull  round, 
Where'er  !iis  stages  may  have  been, 
Maysigh  to  think  he  still  lias  found 
His  warmest  welcome  at  an  inn." 

— SlIENSTONE. 


HE  time — late  in  the  evening  of  a  raw  April 
day,  many  a  year,  most  probably,  before  you 
were  born,  my  dear  sir  or  niadam.  The 
scene— a  long,  bleak  strip  of  coast  on  the 
Jersey  shore,  washed  by  the  bright  waters 
of  the  Howinii:  Hudson. 

A  low,  black,  rakish-looking  schooner,  with  a  sort 
of  suspicious  look  about  it,  strikingly  suggestive  to 
nautical  individuals  skilled  in  reading  the  expressive 
countenances  of  schooners  in  general, 1iad  just  come  to 
anchor  out  in  the  river,  a  sliort  distance  froin  the  shore  ; 
and  a  boat,  a  few  minutes  after,  had  put  off  from  her, 
and  landed  two  persons,  who  sprang  lightly  out;  while 
two  more,  who  had  rowed  them  ashore,  leaned  on 
their  dripping  oars,  and  waited,  as  if  for  further  direc- 
tions. 

*'  You  can  go  back  now.  I  don't  want  you  to  wait 
for  me.  TU  stop  at  the  'Mermaid'  to-niglit.  If  I 
want  you,  you  know  the  signal ;  and  tell  Sharp  Bill  to 

(71 


8 


THE    MEUMATI). 


;   I 


keep  ail  nneommon  sharp  look-out.  Come,  my  little 
Spanish  Jockey  o'  Norfolk;  put  3'onr  best  lei(  foi-einost, 
lioist  all  sail,  and  let's  be.'ii'  down  on  that  full-blown 
craft.  Bob  Rowlie,  of  the  Mermaid  inn." 


Th 


ak 


ic  speaKer   mive  nis  eoinnamon    a 


bl 


ow  on 


tl 


10 


b'lck,  at  this  passaiJi'e  in  liis  discourse,  that  sent  hiin 
reeling,  as  well  it  iiiiij;ht;  and  then,  with  a  coarse  laugh, 
sprang,  with  more  agility  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  his  looks,  over  the  wet,  shingly,  slippery 
beach,  towards  the  high  road. 

lie  was  a  man  of  some  forty-five  or  fifty  years  of 
age,  short,  brawny,  and  muscular,  though  not  stout,  M'itli 
an  extremely  large  head,  set  on  an  extremely  short 
neck,  which  made  u])  in  thickness  what  it  wanted  in 
length.  A  complexion  like  unvarnished  mahogany, 
with  a  low,  retreating  forehead  ;  a  pair  of  sharp,  keen, 
glittering,  hawk-like  eyes,  gleaming  from  under  thick, 
scowling  brows;  a  grim,  resolute  mouth,  expressive  of 
the  most  unllinching  do-or-die  determination,  made  up 
a  face  that  would  hardly  be  associated,  in  female  minds, 
with  the  idea  of  love  at  first  sight.  This  eloquent 
frontispiece  was  rendered  still  more  attractive  by  a  per- 
fect forest  of  underbrush  and  red  hair  generally ;  in- 
deed, there  was  considerablv  more  hair  about  his  coun- 
tenance  than  there  seemed  any  real  necessity  for ;  and 
his  tarpaulin  hat  crowned  a  head  adorned  with  a  violent 
mat  of  hair  of  the  same  striking  color.  The  gentleman 
was  dressed  in  an  eas}',  off-hand  style,  that  completely 
set  at  deliance  all  established  civilized  modes,  with 
nothing  about  him,  save  his  sailor's  hat,  to  betoken  he 
was  a  seaman.  Yet  such  he  was,  and  a  cajitain.  too ; 
Cajitain  Nicholas  Tempest,  commander  of  the  I'ly-by- 
Kiglit,  at  your  service,  reatler. 

A  greater  contrast  to  the  gentleman  just  described 
than  his  companion,  could  hardly  have  been  found, 
search  the  wide  world  over.  lie  was  a  slender  lad,  of 
not  more  than  sixteen  or  seventeen  apparently',  with  a 
face  that  would  have  been  feminine  in  its  exquisite 
beauty,  but  for  the  extreme  darkness  of  the  complex- 


rilE    MERMAID. 


0 


f 
la 


^ 


a 


ion.  Every  feature  was  perfect,  as  faultlessly  chiseled 
as  if  modeled  after  some  anti(]ue  statue.  His  eyes  were 
lar<i:e,  black,  and  lustrous  as  diamonds;  liis  short,  crisp, 
curliup^  hair,  of  jetty  blackness;  while  his  comj)lexioii 
was  darker  than  that  of  a  Creole.  His  form  was  sli^j^ht, 
rrracefu!,  and  elegant ;  his  dress,  odd,  picturesque,  and 
foreig.i-Iooking,  and  strikingly  becoming  to  tlio  dark, 
rich  style  of  his  beauty.  A  crimson  sash  was  knotted 
carelessly  round  his  waist;  and  a  cap  of  the  same  color, 
with  a  gold  band  and  tassel,  and  a  single  black  plume, 
was  set  jauntily  on  his  dark  curls,  and  gave  him  alto- 
gether the  look  of  a  handsome  little  brigand,  just 
dressed  for  the  stage. 

The  burly  commander  of  the  Fly-by-Kight  sprang 
fleetly  up  the  rocks,  followed  by  the  bo3%  until  they 
left  the  beach,  and  struck  out  on  the  straggling,  unfre- 
quented, lonely-looking  road,  with  only  one  house  iu 
sight,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  j'cach,  and  that  one  a  low, 
dingy -looking  place,  with  a  black,  smoky  chimney  lean- 
ing pensively  to  one  side,  and  two  vacant-eyed  windows, 
that  stared  straight  before  them  with  an  idiotic,  help- 
less-looking gape,  and  a  melancholy  old  door,  tjiat 
creaked  and  moaned  dismally  whenever  it  M'as  touched. 
Over  this  door  was  a  flapping  sign,  with  an  uncomfort- 
able-looking female  painted  on  it,  who  held  a  condj  in 
one  hand,  and  a  small  pocket  mirror  in  the  other,  into 
which  she  was  gazing  with  an  expression  of  the  most 
violent  astonishment,  evidently  lost  in  wonder  as  to  how 
on  earth  she  had  ever  got  there — as  she  very  well  might, 
indeed  ;  for  it  was  an  uncomfortable,  not  to  say  distress- 
ing, place  for  anybody  to  be,  much  less  a  mermaid.  A 
striking  trait  about  this  lady  was,  that  after  beginning 
like  any  other  reasonable  Christian,  she  suddenly  and 
impetuously,  and  without  the  smallest  provocation,  saw 
lit  to  branch  olf  into  a  startling  tail,  which  turned  up  so 
that  the  tip  stood  on  a  level  with  her  head,  and  left  her 
precisely  in  the  shape  of  the  letter  IF.  Under  this  ex- 
traordinary female  was  |)ainted,  in  glaring,  yellow 
capitals,  ''  The  Mermaid,"  and   there  was   a   popular 


10 


Tiir:  MiniMAiD. 


legend  extant,  to  the  eflect  tluit  the  picture  above  was 
a  strikinjx  likeness  of  one  of  those  iishy  individuals 
tliat  had  been  captured  by  a  fiji-nier  proprietor  of  the 
inn,  Vv-liiie  she  was  combinp^  her  sea-green  tresses  dov.'u 
on  the  sh(jre.  For  the  truth  of  the  narrative  I  am  not, 
however,  prepared  to  vouch  in  this  authentic  history,  as 
I  have  only  popular  tradition  for  it. 

Tov/ard  this  invitingdooking  dwelling  our  two 
"solitaiy  travelers"  were  betaking  themselves,  at  a 
leisurely  pace,  each  seemingly  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts.  Captain  xsicholas  Tempest,  having  insinu- 
ated about  half  a  yard  of  twisted  tobacco  into  his 
mouth,  was  discharging  right  and  left,  with  that  benign 
expression  of  'ountenance  men  always  wear  when  chew- 
ing the  weed;  and  with  i)oth  hands  thrust  in  his  trou- 
sers pockets,  he  niar(;hcd  along  M'ith  an  independent 
swagger,  tiiat  said,  as  plainly  as  words,  "I'm  Captain 
Nick  Tempest,  sir,  and  I  don't  care  a  curse  for  any 
man  !"  liis  handsome  companion  kept  by  his  side, 
stepping  carefully  to  avoid  the  mud,  lest  it  sliould  sully 
the  shining  brightness  of  his  Spanish  leather  boots,  and 
smiling  sliglitly  as  he  caught  the  contemptuous  glances 
Captain  Tempest  cast  toward  him,  as  he  observed  the 
action.  And  thus,  the  one  chewing  tobacco  and  plow- 
ing his  way  straightforwardly  along,  in  free  and  easy 
scorn  of  mud  and  dirt,  and  the  other  stepping  daintily, 
and  sj^ringing  over  holes  and  puddles,  they  marched 
along  in  silence  for  a  season. 

Captain  Nicholas  Tempest,  transferring  his  quid, 
with  an  adroit  roll  of  the  tongue  that  besiioke  long  and 
accomplished  practice,  to  the  other  cheek,  and  having 
discharged  a  startling  lire  of  tobacco-juice,  gave  his 
pantaloons  a  hoist,  and  glancing  toward  ids  companion, 
at  length  lifted  up  his  voice  and  spake. 

"  Well,  my  little  shaver,  you've  got  to  America, 
at  last,  you  see,  all  safe  in  wind  and  limb ;  though,  by 
George,  we  did  come  pretty  near  going  to  Davy's 
locker  once  or  twice  during  the  passage.  And  now 
what   do   you  think   of   it,  eh  ?     Hardly   equal  to  tho 


I 


vw 


t.  k 


Tin-J    Mi:iiMAlD. 


11 


as 


lid, 
lid 


)ii, 
lea, 

by 

's 
pw 
ho 


*vin2clad  hills  of  sunny  Spain,'  you  sec,  my  lad. 
Iwuthcr  a  dreary  and  desolate  prospect,  just  at  present, 
ain't  it  r' 

''  Yes,  somewhat  so,"  said  the  lad,  as  he  measui-cd 
intently  with  his  eye  a  pool  of  water  in  his  path,  and 
then  leaped  lightly  over  it.  His  voice  was  soft  and 
n)usical  in  the  extreme,  and  was  rendered  still  more 
so  by  his  foreign  accent,  though  he  spoke  in  excellent 
English. 

"And  now-  that  you've  got  here.  Master  Jacinto, 
what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  yourself,  if  it's  a  fair 
question  V 

''  i\n-fectly  fair,  Captain  Tempest.  I  mean  to 
take  exc(^llent  care  of  myself,"  said  the  lad,  carelessly. 

"Humph!  you  do — do  you  ^  Uoys  have  queer 
notions  about  taking  care  of  themselves.  J  suppose 
your  next  move  will  be  for  Kew  York  city." 

"  That  depends." 

"  Depends  on  wdiat?" 

"Av'ell,  ona  good  many  things,  generally,  and  on 
one  thing  in  particular." 

"  And  what  is  that  one  tiling?  Don't  be  so  cursed 
secretive,  you  little  ja('kanapes  I  1  tell  3'OU  what, 
my  young  cove,  you  had  better  keep  on  the  right  side 
of  me ;  for  it  will  be  the  tallest  feather  in  your  cap, 
if  you  have  the  friendship  of  Captain  iS'ick  Tempest. 
Mind  that!" 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  Captain  Nick  Temi)est, 
and  would  not  offend  him  for  any  earthly  considera- 
tion," said  the  young  Spaniard,  in  a  tone  of  provoking 
indilferencc,  as  he  tightened  his  sash;  "but,  at  the 
same  time,  he  must  allow  mo  to  decline  making  him 
my  conhdant,  more 'especially  as  it  is  totally  out  of  lii.i 
power  to  aid  me  in  the  slightest  degree." 

Captain  JSick  Tempest  came  to  a  sndd(!n  halt, 
and  with  his  hands  still  in  his  pt)ckets,  faced  round 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  his  swarthy  face  liushed,  and 
his  browns  contracting  with  rising  anger ;  but  as  his 
eyes  fell  on  the  slight,  boyisli   form  of  the  other,  he 


*«? 


13 


THE    MERMAID. 


it ' 


checked  lihiiself,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  withering  scoiii, 
as  lie  moved  on  : 

'•\Vliy,  wliat  an  independent  yonni:;  gentleman  we 
have  here,  so  selt-eonseious  and  wise  that  he  deelines 
all  Jielp,  and  is  going  to  hegin  life  in  a  land  he  never 
e^et  lout  in  before,  on  the  2)rinciple  of  letting  every  tub 
stand  on  its  own  bottom.  If  you  were  a  dozen  years 
older,  i  would  twist  your  neck  for  yon,  for  your  inso- 
lence. A  !S])aniard  more  or  less  is  no  great  loss  in  the 
world;  and  1  have  settled  the  hash  of  many  abetter 
man  than  you  will  ever  be,  for  less  than  that  I'' 

"1  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  it,  sir,"  said  the 
lad,  with  so  ready  an  acquiescence  as  to  sound  like  llat- 
tery,  while  a  slight  and  almost  imperceptible  smile 
broke  for  an  instant  over  his  handsome  face. 

"Oh,  you  haven't!"  growled  Captain  Kick,  slightly 
molliliet!,  "'well,  then,  let  me  give  you  a  jiiece  of 
friendly  advice :  Don't  attempt  to  provoke  Captain 
Tempest.  Yon  had  a  passage  over  in  my  bark,  and 
we've  broken  bread  together,  and  been  good  friends 
all  along,  and  1  don't  know  but  what  I  kinder  liked 
you;  but  still,  J  tell  you,  as  a  friend,  don't  provoke 
me,  J\J aster  Jacinto." 

"Itcally,  Captain  Tempest,  I  had  no  intention  of 
oft'ending  you,  and  regret  exceedingly  having  done  so," 
said  the  youth,  bowing  de])recatingly  ;  "  but  the  fact  is, 
I  could  not,  it'  1  would,  tell  you  my  plans;  for  I  do  not 
know  myself,  having  formed  none  as  yet.  Most  likely 
1  shall  do  as  1  have  always  done — trust  to  luck,  and 
let  to-morrow  take  care  of  itself." 

"A  mighty  profitable  maxim,  and  a  beautiful  way 
of  passing  through  life,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  sneer. 
"'Trust  to  luck,  indeed,  the  slippery  jade!  No,  sir,  1 
wouldn't  trust  her  the  length  of  my  nose,  and  that's 
none  of  the  lon2:est  either." 

'"  Providence,  then,  if  yon  like  that  better.  Don't 
you  trust  in  Providencje  f '  said  the  boy. 

'*  Providence  !"  said  Ca])tain  Nick,  jerking  out  his 
tobacco,  with  a  look  of  utter  contempt,  ""  paugh !   don't 


THE    MERMAID. 


13 


J 


make  me  Bick.  I  tliink  I  see  myself  trnHtiiic:  in  Prov- 
idcnce !  Ko,  sir.  Since  1  was  kiiee-liig-li  to  a  cluck, 
I've  put  my  trust  in  somotliini!^  that  lias  uevcr  deceived 
me  yet,  and  ncjver  will  while  one  timber  of  this  (jueer 
craft  of  a  world  hangs  together;  and  I'd  advise  you, 
my  little  Spanish  friend,  to  do  the  same." 

"Indeed!  perhaps  I  may.  AVhat  is  this  wonder- 
ful sheet-anchor  called'!!" 

"  Captain  Kick  Tempest,  sir,"  said  that  individual, 
drawing  himself  up,  and  fixing  his  Ihuiiing  eyes  on 
his  companion's  face.  "  I've  trusted  in  him,  sii",  and 
I'll  back  him  against  luck  and  Providence,  and  all  the 
other  sheet-anchors  in  the  world.  Luck!  ugh  !"  said 
the  captain,  with  a  look  of  disgust,  as  he  let  Uy  a  last 
volley  of  tobacco-juice. 

The  boy  would  have  smiled,  but  there  was  a  warning 
gleam  in  the  lierce  eyes  of  the  captain  that  forbade  it; 
60  he  said  nothing,  and  again  they  walked  on  for  a 
short  distance  in  silence,  autl  sulkiness  on  the  part  of 
the  gallant  commander  of  the  Ply-by-JS'ight. 

"Is  that  the  inn  we  are  to  stop  at  f  at  length 
inquired  the  boy,  Jacinto. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  cai)tain,  with  a  sullen  growl, 
"  that's  the  inn  I'm  to  stop  at.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  yours  ;  and  what's  more,  I  don't  cure.  You 
may  go  where  you  please." 

Again  that  slight  and  seemingly  irrepressible  smile 
flickered  for  a  moment  round  the  lad's  handsome 
mouth  ;  l)Ut  it  was  gone  directly,  and  he  was  standing 
u'ith  his  hand  on  the  captaiiTs  arm,  and  his  dark  bright 
eyes  iixed  on  his  grull',  surly  face,  saying,  in  his  soft, 
musical  accents : 

"C'ome,  Captain  Tempest,  forget  and  forgive;  it  is 
hardly  worth  your  while  to  be  angry  with  me.  We 
have  been  good  friends  since  the  day  we  left  Merrie 
England  until  this;  and  as  there  is  no  telling  how  soon 
we  may  ])art  now,  it  will  never  do  to  cpiarrel  at  the  last 
moment." 

"Quarrel!"    said    C'aptain    Kick,   contemptuously. 


14 


THE    MERMAID. 


ili 


n 


Ml 


''  Quarrel  with  a  little  pinch  of  down  like  you  !  Why, 
I'd  as  soon  quarrc;!  with  a  woman  !  Not  much  fear  of 
you  and  I  quarrcliiru^,  my  yoiinii;  shaver!" 

"  Well,  let  us  t)0  friends  then,  as  we  were  heforc. 
Come,  captain,  shake  hands  on  it — if  I  spoke  imperti- 
uently  that  time,  1  am  sorry  for  it.     Will  that  do  V 

lie  held  out  his  hand — a  small,  fair,  delicate  haiid, 
that  no  lady  need  have  bc^n  ashamed  of — and  looked 
up,  \\'ith  a  pleading  face  that  was  quite  irresistible,  in 
the  i>Tufi  (captain's  face.  Captam  IS ick,  with  a  stilled 
growl,  took  the  boy's  hand  in  his  own  huge  digits,  and 
gave  it  a  crushing  shake. 

"  There!  don't  coino  it  over  me  with  your  soft-saw- 
der. Master  Jacinto,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  as  if  half 
angry  with  himself  for  the  hking  lie  could  not  help 
feeling  for  the  handsome  boy.  "  You've  got  a  sweet 
tongue  of  yom*  own  ;  and  tliongh  it  can  sting  pretty 
shari)ly  at  times,  you  are  always  ready  to  plaster  tlie 
wound  over  again  with  some  of  tliat  same  honeyed  bal- 
sam. ^'(Ui  see  yon  can't  take  me  in,  my  lad.  You'll 
have  to  cut  a  few  more  of  your  eye-teeth  before  you 
can  manage  that.  Here  we  are  at  the  Mermaid,  and 
there  she  swings  herself,  the  same  picture  of  ugliness 
she  has  always  been  since  I  first  had  th(>  pleasure  of  her 
acquaintance.  Wonder  if  old  Kowlie  has  thought 
pro]")er  to  die  of  apoplexy  yet  f 

As  he  spoke  he  ptissed  through  the  low  doorway, 
and  entered  the  house,  closely  followed  l)y  Jacinto. 
The  dooi"  opened  straighr  into  the  bar-room — a  low, 
dirty,  smoke-hegrimed  place,  with  a  strong  odor  of 
ardent  s])irits  and  sawdust  pervading  it.  Numerous 
casks  were  ranged  round  the  walls;  and  on  the  shelves 
behind  the  counter  were  arrayed  bottles,  decanters,  and 
glasses,  and  all  the  other  paraphernalia  common  in  such 
places.  Leaning  over  the  counter,  with  his  back  to  the 
door,  and  busily  engaged  in  turning  over  the  greasy 
leaves  of  a  dirty  little  account-book, "'as  a  fat,  round- 
about little  man,  with  a  rosy  face  indicative  of  an  uulim- 
itod  amount  of  solemn  good-nature. 


■i/  ■ 


THE    MERMAID. 


15 


J3 


(1 
h 


I 


"I  say,  old  J>ob  llowUc  !  wliat  elicer,  my  hearty  V 
called  Captain  Nick,  <xiviiin;  tlio  little  nuiii  a  blap  in  tiic 
back  that  nearly  knocked  him  into  a  j"lly.  "Alivo 
aid  kicking  yet,  I  sec!  What  a  }n-eciou3  long  time 
the  old  boy  is  of  claiminir  his  own,  to  be  sure!" 

"  Captain  Nick  Tempest,"  said  the  little  man, 
slowly,  as  he  laid  down  his  pencil  and  book,  and  looked 
solemnly  in  the  face  of  his  boisterons  guest,  "  and  so 
you've  come  back  again,  have  you  ^  I  might  jiave 
known  it  was  you,  for  nobody  ever  knocks  the  breath 
out  of  my  body  till  you  come.  AVho  is  this  ?"  said  Mr. 
Kowh'e,  looking  v.dth  his  slow,  grave  gaze  toward  the 
young  Spaniard,  wdio  was  leaning  carelessly  against  the 
door-j)Ost. 

"  Oh,  a  customer  Tve  brought  you — a  young 
chap  from  beyond  the  seas,"  said  the  captain,  flinging 
himself  into  a  chair;  "come  in,  Jacinto,  and  make 
yourself  at  liome.     How's  the  old  woman,  Bob?" 

"  J\[rs,  Uowi;,!  i ;  por-fec  ly  well,"  slowly  articulated 
^[r.  Itowlie,  taking  a  prolonged  look  at  Jacinto,  "  per- 
t'ec-ly  well,  thaidvv.     Is  the  men  coming  up  to-night  ?" 

"Not  to  night.  I'm  going  to  swing  my  hannnock 
here  myself,  to-night.  How's  trade  these  times,  old 
bulfcr  i     Many  customers  at  the  Merhiaid  V 

"■  Yc-es,"  said  Mr.  liowlie,  deliberately — "  yc-es, 
sometimes  there  is,  and  then,  again,  ronu'times  there 
ain't.  Vessels,  principally,  bring  customers,  but  tiiey 
don" I  stay  long,  mostly  the  reverse.  Generally,  it's 
fjuicu  here.     (Jnconnnon  so." 

"  Well,  it's  likely  to  be  brisk  enough  while  I  stay 
-  -my  men  arc  the  very  dickens  for  spending  their 
money.  And  now,  my  fat  friend,  just  let  me  have 
soniednng  to  eat,  will  you.  I  feel  hungry  enough  to  eat 
yourself,  b(Hiesand  all,  if  you  were  properly  stulfed  and 
roasted.     Come,  hurry  u[)!'" 


Ml 
fee 


1 


>}•  WAV   O 


f  eon 


iDlvuu 


with  this  re^picst  Mr.  TlowHe 
waddled  leisuri^ly  to  a  door  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  and  opening  it,  he  called,  in  a  husky  falsetto, 
'•  Mrs.  Uowlie-e-e  I" 


16 


rilE    Mh:iiMAID. 


I 
I 


What  do  joii  want  j"  called  a  brisk  voice  from 
within,  as  a  incny-lookin:i;  little  woman,  like  her  hus- 
band, sonieuhat  of  the   dumpling  order,  came  to   the 


doo 


r  aT)( 


peep 


e( 


1  out. 


some 


Captain   JS'ick   Tempest  has   arrived,  and  wants 

4',...,l   '> 


food 


Ol 


1,  marcy  sakes 


Caj^t 


am,  Jiow 


h 


je 


do 


?"    c 


sau 


Mrs.  Kowlie,  bustling  out,  and  holding  out  her  hand 
to  the  burly  captain.  "  How  unexpected  people  keeps 
a  turning  up!  I'm  raillj  glad  to  see  you.  I  railly 
am,  now." 

"Thankee,  Mrs.  Rowlie — thankee!"  said  the  cap- 
tain, as  he  sprung  up,  and  gave  the  buxom  dame  a 
rousing  salute  on  the  cheek,  while  Mr.  liowlie  looked  on 
in  solemn  dismay;  "and  lh)W  do  you  lind  yourself,  old 
lady  i     JJlooming  like  a  hollyhock,  as  usual  C 

"Lor',  ca})t;iin,  behave  yourself,  can't  ye?"  said 
Mrs.  Rowlie,  jerking  hersell;  away,  and  wiping  the 
olfended  cheek  with  her  check  apron,  "  please  goodness, 
you've  no  more  manners  nor  a  })ig.  lley  !  who's  this  •; 
Lor'  1)1{  ss  me  !  where  did  this  uncommon  hanilsomo 
young  gentleman  come  from  C  she  exclaimed,  suddenly, 
catching  sight  of  Jacinto,  who  was  still  leaning  care- 
lessly against  the  door. 

The  boy  doifed  his  cap,  and  bowed  with  a  smile  to 
the  old  lady,  who  gazed  at  him  with  unconcealed  admi- 
ration. 

"From  S[)ain,  Dame  Quic^kly,  if  you  ever  heard 
of  such  a  ])lace,"  said  the  ca])tain.  "  Rut  never  nund 
liis  beauty  now,  while  there  is  more  important  mat- 
ters to  attend  to.  Do  you  know  I've  had  nothing  to 
cat  siiice  early  noon,  and  now  it's  almost  night!! 
Come,  be  spry.  I  hear  soniething  iizzling  in  tliere, 
and,  il"  my  nasal  organ  does  not  deceive  me,  something 
good,  too.     What  is  it  ^" 

"  iS tewed  rabbit,"  said  the  old  ladv,  whisking  the 
dust  olf  a  chair  with  her  a])ron,  and  bringing  it  over  to 
Jacinto.  "Do  sit  down,  sir,  and  make  yourself  comfor- 
table.    Yes,   Captain    Nick,  yes  ;  everything   will    bo 


TUE    .,:EliMAlD. 


17 


1(1 
It- 
to 


lo 


rciidy  directly.  Lur''  bless  me  !  how  excessive  liaiidsonie 
that  young  gent  is,  to  be  sure !"  said  Mrs.  Kowiie, 
cotto  'VOCCj  as  she  hurried  into  tlio  inner  room. 

"Yes,  that's  womankind,  all  over,"  said  Captain 
Tempest,  bitterly.  "Let  them  sec  a  liandsome  face, 
and  old  loves  and  old  friendships  are  alike  forgotten. 
Curse  them  all !  every  mothers  daughter  ot*  them,  I 
say!  Old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  they  are  all  alike. 
Even  this  old  fool,  now,  the  moment  she  sees  the  liand- 
some face  of  this  young  Spaniard,  she  is  read}'  to  forget 
and  nei^lect  me — me,  who  has  done  more  for  lier  than 
he  ever  will  or  can  do  in  his  life.  And  these  are  the 
things  that  men  love — that  men  every  day  stoop  to 
love,  and  make  fools  of  themselves  for.  Talk  of  cher- 
ishing vipers — there  never  was  born  a  woman  yet  who 
would  not  be  a  viper  if  she  had  it  in  her  power." 

It  was  evidently  some  inward  feeling,  in  which 
good  little  ]\[rs,  Kowlie  had  no  share,  that  sent  Cap- 
tain Nick  Tempest  so  excitedly  from  his  seat,  and 
caused  him  to  pace  with  such  an  angry,  ringing  tread 
up  and  down  the  little  room,  his  face  full  of  such 
furious,  repressed  passion.  Mr.  Rowlie  gazed  at  him, 
for  a  moment,  in  stolid  surprise,  and  then  busied  him- 
self in  lining  a  black,  stumpy  pipe  with  tobacco ;  and 
Jacinto,  sitting  toying  with  a  little  gray  kitten,  cast 
furtive  glances  at  him  from  under  his  long  eyelashes. 

"  Smoke  V  said  Mr.  li(jwlie,  sententiously,  holding 
out  the  black,  stumpy  pipe  to  Jacinto. 

"jNo,  thank  you;  1  never  do,"  said  the  boy,  with 
a  half-laugh,  as  ho  declined  the  civility. 

Mr.  Kowlie  said  nothing,  but  immediately  clapj)ed 
it  in  his  own  mouth,  and  was  soon  pulHng  away  until 
he  could  be  just  faintly  observed,  looming  up  dindy, 
through  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

"  Come,  captain,"  called  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Kowlie 
at  this  juncture;  "come,  young  gentleman — I  don't 
know  your  name,"  she  said  to  him,  apologetically,  as 
he  followed  the  captain  into  the  inner  room,  "  or  I'd 
call  you  it,  r?ii  sure." 


iH 


1 


18 


TEE    MERMAID. 


If 


I  ' 


I'* 


"  I  wouldn't  advise  jou  to  try  it,  if  yon  liuve  any 
regard  for  your  teeth,"  yaid  Captain  Nick.  "  Call  him 
Mr.  Jacinto,  if  you  like.  1  fori^et  his  second  name 
now;  but  it's  a  stuimer,  and  would  knock  you  over 
stiff  as  a  jnackerel  if  you  attempted  to  say  it.  Di'aw 
in,  my  young  hearty.  One  vv^ord's  as  good  'a^  ten — eat 
away.     Amen.     There's  a  grace  !     Xow  fall  to." 

And,  following  precept  by  example,  Captain  Tem- 
pest immediately '' fell  to,"  with  an  appetite  six  hours 
old,  and  sharpened  by  the  sea-breeze  to  a  terrifying  ex- 
tent. Jacinto  partook  lightly  of  Mrs.  llowlie's  dainties, 
and  looked  on  between  laughter  and  dismay,  as  she 
heaped  up  liis  plate  for  him. . 

"I  say,  old  woman,"  said  Captain  Nick,  when  busi- 
ness in  the  supper  department  began  to  slacken  a  little, 
"when  did  you  see  that  old  witch  of  Hades — Grizzle 
Ilowlet  ?" 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Mrs.  Kowlie,  leaning  me'lita- 
tively  on  her  l)room.  "  She  ain't  l)in  here,  I  don't 
believe,  sincje  the  night  you  left.  No,  she  ain't —not 
since  then." 

"Humph!"  said  the  captain,  thoughtfully,  as  he 
resumed  his  knife  and  fork,  but  in  a  far  different  man- 
ner than  before. 

At  this  moment,  a  sudden  bustle  in  the  bar  arrested 
their  attention  ;  a  sharp,  harsh  voice  was  heard  address- 
ing some  (piestion  to  Mr.  Uowlie — evidently  the  voice 
of  a  woman.  Mrs.  Kowlie  looked  at  the  captain  and 
uttered  an  ejaculation,  and  that  worthy  mariner 
dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  pushed  back  his  chair,  and 
half  arose. 

"  Marcy  sakes  !"  exclaimed  the  little  woman,  "did 
you  ever  'i  Why,  I  do  declare !  if  that  ain't  her,  her 
own  blessed  self !" 

"Her  own  blessed  self!"  said  the  captain,  in  an 
undertone,  and  with  a  grim  smile.  ''  Her  own  cnrsvd 
self,  you  mean — the  old  hag!  How  did  she  know  f 
was  here?  I  believe  there's  something  of  the  vulture 
in  that  old  beldame,  and  that  she  scents  her   prey  afar 


TUE    MEIUIAID. 


19 


i<l 


off.  By  the  pricking  of  my  tlimnbs,  some  one  wicked 
this  wuy  conies!  Is  here  P''  lie  cried,  as  the  door 
opened,  and  the  object  of  his  eulogiurn  stood  boit 
iij)ri!j,ht  before  tliem. 

Jacinto  tui-ned,  in  some  cnriopity,  to  look  at  the 
new-comer,  and  saw  what  looked  like  an  old  woman, 
but  ought  to  have  been  a  man,  if  judged  by  size.  Ex- 
tremely tall,  she  towered  up  in  liie  apartment  as 
straight  as  a  cedar  of  Lebanon,  and  fully  a  head  over 
Captain  Nick  Tempest.  She  was  dressed  in  gray — 
all  in  gray,  from  head  to  foot.  A  coarse  gray  dress, 
a  gray  woolen  cloak,  with  a  gray  hood  tied  under  her 
chin,  and  might  have  passed  for  a  Capuchin  friar,  or 
a  "  Monk  of  the  Order  Gray,"  only  no  holy  monk  or 
friar  ever  wore  such  a  hard,  bitter,  evil,  un[)itying 
face,  such  a  stern,  remorseless  mouth,  and  such  u 
stony,  dead,  unfeeling  eye,  as  that  woman  wore.  Up- 
right  in  the  door  she  stood,  and  scanned  Captain  Tem- 
pest, with  folded  arms,  for  full  live  minutes. 

"  Well,  Grizzle,  my  old  friend,"  said  that  gentle- 
man with  a  sneer,  "  vou'll  know  me  the  next  time, 
won't  you '^  Can't  I  prevail  on  you  to  come  in,  and 
sit  down,  and  make  yourself  as  miserable  as  possible 
while  you  stay.  How  have  you  been  since  I  saw  you 
last,  my  dear^  You  can't  think  how  I  have  been 
pining  for  you  ever  since,  my  love," 

The  woman  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  his 
jibing  tone;  not  a  muscle  of  her  iron  face  moved,  as 
she  loomed  up  like  a  ligurc  in  granite,  and  looked 
down  upon  the  contemptuous  face  of  the  captain  of 
the  Fly-l)y-Night. 

"Oh!  so  my  politeness  is  all  thrown  away  upon 
you,  is  it  1^'' he  said,  after  a  pause,  "and  you  won't 
speak.  Very  well,  my  darling  ;  just  as  you  like,  you 
know,  and  I'll  let  you.  Mrs.  Kowlie,  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  step  out  to  the  bar  and  hringme  a  pipe  i 
Draw  up  to  the  lire,  Jacinto;  it's  cold  comfort  this 
raw  evening,  and  the  entrance  of  that  tall  blast  of  north 
wind  yonder  has  given  me  the  chills.     My  dearest 


I  ' 


I  1 


:i   ,' 


II  '■ 


i'\ 


i'l 


1 1.  t 


I  t 


20 


TUt:    MERMAID. 


Grizzle,  do  come  to  the  lire — there's  a  duck.  You're 
cold — (loii't  say  no — I'm  sure  you  are!"  And  strctch- 
ini^  out  his  arm,  stage-fashion,  and  looking  toward  ho-, 
Captain  Tempest  began  declaring,  distractedly  : 

*'  *  Content  thyself,  my  dearest  love, 
Tliy  rest  iit  lionie  shall  be 
In  Uo\vli(!'s  sweet  and  pleasuut  iun, 
For  travel  tits  not  thee.' 

There's  the  old  ballad  for  you,  altered  and  improved  ; 
and  here's  our  charming  hostess  with  the  pipe. 
Jacinto,  my  hearty,  won't  you  have  a  draw? " 

Jacinto,  who  was  completely  puzzled  by  the  caj)- 
tain's  eccentric  manner,  declined  ;  and  glancing  towai'd 
the  tall  woman,  was  sliijrhilv  disconcerted  to  lind  licr 
needle-like  eyes  tixed  on  liis  face  with  a  gaze  of  pierc- 
ing scrutiny. 

"  Who  is  this  l)oy  you  have  with  you,  Nick  Tem- 
pest?" she  exclaimed,  in  a  harsh,  discordant  voice,  as 
she  came  up,  and  bending  down,  seemed  piercing  the 
boy  through  and  througli  with  her  gleaming  eyes. 

"  Oh !  so  you  have  found  your  tongue,  my  sweet 
pet?"  said  Captain  Tempest.  "Iwas  afraid  you  had 
lost  it  altogether,  which  would  be  an  unspeakable  pity, 
you  know;  for,  as  the  Irish  song  says,  'you've  got  an 
illigant  tongue,  and  easily  set  agoing.'  As  to  who  he 
is,  his  na!ne  is  Jacintc  Mandetti,  or  something  about 
the  size  of  that,  and  ne  comes  from  old  !Seville — j)lace 
where  they  laise  sweet  oranges  ;  and  he  is  a  good-look- 
ing youth,  as  you  perceive,  though  somewhat  ot"  the 
tawniest.     And  so,  no  more  at  present." 

Even  throui2:h  his  brown  skin,  the  Hush  that  cov- 
ered  the  boy's  face,  under  her  pitiless  gaze,  couhl  be 
seen,  as,  with  a  sudden,  sharp  Hash  of  his  black  eyes, 
he  rose  indignantly,  and  turned  away. 

With  something  that  might  have  been  intended  for 
a  smile,  but  whicli  looked  more  like  a  distortion  of 
the  features,  she  gazed  after  him  a  moment,  and  then, 


THE    MERMAID. 


31 


slowly  removing  her  scrutinizing  stare,  fixed  her  eyes 
again  on  Captain  Tempest. 

"'  Well,  I'm  glad  you've  got  through  looking  at  him 
and  admiring  liis  beauty,  my  dear,"  continued  the 
captain,  in  the  same  mocking  strain.  "1  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  a  little  jealous,  you  know,  seeing  the  hearts 
of  young  and  tender  females  are  so  easily  cajjtivated. 
Come,  sit  down  here  beside  me,  and  tell  me  how 
the  world  has  been  using  you  for  the  last  ten  months." 

"AVhat  devil's  deed  brings  you  back  now,  Caj)- 
tain  Tempest?"  said  the  woman,  spurning  the  seat  ho 
placed  for  he:  away  with  her  foot,  and  leaning  against 
the  mantel. 

"  lleally,  my  dear  Grizzle,  your  manner  of  address 
can  hardly  be  called  strictly  polite  ;  but  plainness  was 
always  a  failing  of  yours."  And  he  glanced  slightly  at 
her  forbiddini;- contenance.  "I  catno  here  to  see  mv 
friends  generally,  and  to  see  Mrs.  Grizzle  llowlet  ])ar- 
ticularly — though  that  lady's  welcome  has  been  indif- 
ferent, not  to  say  cool.  What  nudicious  fiend,  my 
dearest,  has  been  poisoning  your  ears  against  me  during 
my  absence  V 

"  Pshaw,  man  !  don't  be  a  fool  I"  said  the  woman 
impatiently.  ^^  Do  you  know  why  I  have  come  here 
to-night  ?"■ 

"How  should  I  know?"  replied  the  captain. 

"Then  it  was  to  warn  you,  Captain  Tempest;  for 
there  is  danger  at  hand.  Forewarned  is  forearmed, 
they  say  ;  so,  beware." 

"  Don't  plagiarize,  my  dear  woman.  That  tragical 
'beware!' I  have  heard  once  or  twice  before,  if  my 
memory  serves  me  right,  when  you  and  I  used  to  tread 
the  hoards  of  Old  Drury  every  night,  and  do  the  heavy 
ti-;tgedy.  Do  you  remember  those  happy  days,  my 
charmer,  when  vou  were  Ladv  Macbeth  and  I  was 
the  murdered  Duncan  V 

"  Take  care  the  old  ti-agedy  is  not  renewed  in  real 
life!"  said  the  woman,  witli  a  sharp  tl;ish  of  her  eyes. 
"  I   can   act  Ladv  Macbeth   as  well  to-dav,  as  I  could 


I,   I 


P 


it 


I. 


■It        i    ' 


.»• 


f'l 


«; 


!■ 


t 


H 


;    I 
il 

I ; 


I 


23 


77//:    MERMAID. 


tlicTi ;  and,"  she  added,  bringing;  down  her  clenched 
liaiid  fiercely  on  the  mantel,  "  I  feel  quite  as  ready  to 
do  it  !''^ 

"  Xo  doubt  of  it,  my  love ;  no  doubt  of  it.  But 
about  this  danger  witli  which  I  am  threatened,  and 
which  vour  tender  solicitude  for  my  sake  has  made  you 
take  this  long  and  lonesome  journey  to  avei't — a  jour- 
ney so  full  of  danger,  in  these  troublous  times,  to 
a  young  and  lovely  female  like  yourself.  Now  don't 
get  into  a  passion,  my  dear.  Where's  the  use  'i  AVhat 
wicked  person  or  persons  has  designs  on  Captain  ISick 
Temj^est  now  f 

With  her  gloomy  eyes  fixed  on  the  blazing  fire,  and 
lier  heavy  l)rows  knotted  together,  the  woman  stood 
silent  for  awhile,  as  if  she  had  not  heard  the  question. 
Captain  Nick  Tempest  looked  at  her  with  aquecrsmile, 
and  then  went  on  smoking,  casting  a  sidelong  glance,  as 
he  did  so,  toward  Jacinto.  The  young  8{)aniai"(l  stood 
wath  liis  l)ack  to  them,  gazing  out  into  the  dee])ening 
gloom  of  the  raw,  chilly  evening  ;  but  the  captain  felt 
sure  not  one  word  of  the  conversation  was  lost  on  him. 

"Nick  Tempest,"  said  the  woman,  looking  u])  at 
length,  "  do  you  remember  the  prediction  of  that  old 
woman  in  Worcestershire,  who  was  hunted  to  death  for 
a  witch  that  night  that  you  entered  the  vaults  of  Saint 
Faith's  church  and  stole  the  diamond  rum  off  the  lin- 

o 

gor  ot — 

"iJusli!"  exclaimed  the  ca])tain,  fiercely,  and  half- 
sj)ringing  from  his  seat,  as  he  cast  a  quick,  apprehen- 
sive glance  toward  the  boy. 

Ihit  still  the  lad  stood  motionless  as  a  figure  in  mar- 
ble ;  and,  as  if  reassured,  he  sank  back  and  said,  in  his 
*  former  tone  of  careless  mockery : 

"  To  be  sure  I  remember  it,  my  dear  Grizzle.  I 
liave  had  an  excellent  memory  through  life,  and  it  is 
not  likely  1  would  forget  that  night ;  more  especially 
as  you,  my  charmer,  accompanied  me  in  the  expedition. 
Let's  see.  Didn't  the  prophecy  run  something  like 
this  : 


THE    MERMAID. 


28 


*  When  thou  'rt  two-score  and  ten, 

Thy  fortune  turns  then, 
There  is  some  one  that  night  thou  wilt  see, 

Tiie  dead liest  foe 

Thiit  thou  ever  wilt  know — 
For  a  life  will  be  lost  betwixt  ye!'" 


his 

I 

is 

bn. 
ke 


"  Yes,"  said  the  woman  ;  "  and  what  night  is  this  V 

"  Tliis  'i  Why,  this  is  the  tentli  of  April— my  birth- 
day, as  I'm  a  sinner !  Caj^jtain  Nicliolas  Lazarus  Tem- 
pest is  fifty  years  old — just  two-score  and  ten — this 
minute,  as  I'm  a  sinner.  Whew!  tlicn  this  is  tlic  very 
niglit." 

As  he  spoke,  the  sharp  clatter  of  liorses'  hoofs  rang 
on  the  stony  street  without,  and  a  high,  clear  voice  was 
heard  calling: 

"lialio!  within  there!'' 

"And  here  is  the  man  himself!"  cried  the  woman, 
starting  U]>,  her  eyes  iilling  vv'ith  a  dusky  fire.  "  Cap- 
tain Tempest,  you  have  been  warned.  Look  to  your- 
self !" 

'•  I  intend  to,  my  dear,"  said  the  captain,  with  a 
sneer,  as  he,  too,  arose.  "What  a  loss  yon  are  to  the 
stage.  Kemble  could  not  have  spoken  that  sentence 
more  tragically.     Wliat, are  yon  going';" 

Wrapping  lier  coarse  cloak  closer  ahout  lier,  and 
drawing  her  gray  hood  down  over  her  face  till  nothing 
was  visible  but  a  pair  of  fiery  eyes,  the  woman  waved 
her  arm  with  a  gesture  half-warning,  half-menacing, 
as  she  cast  a  last  look  at  the  captain. 

That  gallant  mariner  responded  by  a  bow,  as  pro- 
found as  that  of  an  old  lady  in  a  minuet,  and  kissed  his 
h;ind  to  her  as  she  disappeared. 

"Good  riddance  to  bad  rubbish,  eh,  Jacinto?"  ho 
said,  when  she  was  gone,  with  a  quick,  sharj)  glance 
toward  the  boy.  "  Ugly  as  original  sin,  and  with  the 
devil's  own  temper.  11a!  the  Mysterious  Unknown 
is  calling  again !  As  I  am  likely  to  have  an  interest 
in  tlie  gentleman,   I   think   1    will  just  step  out  and 


j  i 


".I 


^il 


■  K 


■JM 


H 


>r 


ii'i 


'III! 


ih! 


if> 


j(* 


I' 


1       I 


24 


T//i27    MERMAID. 


Bee  liiin.  What  do  you   say  to   coming  with   me,  my 

lad  V 

Nearly  a  minute  passed  before  the  l)oy  either  an- 
Rwered  or  turned  round,  and  when  he  did  so  at  last, 
Captain  Tejnpest  saw  a  face  from  wliieli  every  trace  of 
<;ok)r  liad  tied — white  even  to  the  very  H})S ;  and  with 
a  look  ho  stranfi;e  and  in(.'xi)licable  in  the  depths  of  the 
dark,  hi^trous  eyes  that  it  fairly  sta<^gered  that  worthy 


mariner 


5) 


"JIallo!    what's    the  matter  with  you,  my  boy  ^ 
he  exclaimed  with  amazement. 

'"  Notliino^!"  said  the  boy  ;  but  even  his  voice  was 
changed  so  tliat  tlie  ca])tain  hardly  knew  it. 

Ca|)tain  Tempest  L(;ave  him  a  piercing  look,  but 
could  not  fathom  the  sudden  emotion  that  had  bhmched 
the  cheek  and  changed  tlie  voice  of  the  Spanish  boy  ; 
and  at  length  he  turned  away  with  a  long,  wailing 
whistle  that  told  how  com])letely  lie  was  baliled,  aud 
followed  l)y  Jacinto,  passed  out  of  the  room  to  behold 
his  uuknowu  foe. 


TUB    LONE    HOUSE. 


25 


me,  my 

tlicr  an- 
at  last, 
trace  of 
id  with 
3  of  tlio 
worthy 

'  boy^' 

>ice  was 

ok,  but 
hmc'hed 
.sh  l)oy  ; 
wailing 
ed,  and 
i  behold 


31,. 


.HI. 


CUAPTER  II. 


THE     LONE     HOUSE. 


*'  Away  then  hied  the  heir  of  Linne, 

O'oi-  liill,  and  holt,  imd  moor,  and  fen, 
Until  he  came  to  a  lonesome  lodge 
That  stood  so  low  in  lonely  glen." 

— Pkkcy  Keliques. 

OTII  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eowlic  had  deserted  the 
bar-room  and  stood  in  the  doorway  talking 
to  the  stranger,  who  was  on  horseback,  and 
con  Id  be  clearly  discovered  in  tlie  last  rays 
of  the  fading  daylight. 
Captain  Tempest  drew  back  a  little  behind  the 
ample  person  of  the  worthy  host  of  the  Mermaid,  and 
scrutinized  the  new-comer  with  more  interest  than  one 
usually  examines  complete  strangers.  And  very  well 
worth  looking  at  the  stranger  w;is,  as  ho  sat  on  his  su- 
perb horse  like  a  prince  of  the  blood  ;  and  the  captain 
could  not  help  inwardly  acknowledging  that  seldom 
had  his  eyes  fallen  on  a  more  gallant  llgure.  lie  was 
a  young  man,  of  not  more  than  four  or  live-and-twenty, 
tall  and  linely  formed,  with  a  certain  bold,  dashing 
look  that  well  became  him,  and  a  sort  of  undeiinable 
grace  about  him  at  once  careless  and  high-bred.  His 
dark,  curling  hair,  his  clear,  bold  blue  eyes,  his  hand- 
some moulh,  shadowed  by  a  thick,  dark  mustache, 
with  his  handsome  figure,  made  up  what  all  nmst  have 
admitted  to  be  a  remarkably  handsome  young  gentle- 
man— for  a  gentleman  he  evidently  was.  llis  dress 
was  travel-stained,  his  heavy  top-boois  splashed  with 
nuid,  and  his  horse  looked  as  if  he  had  been  ridden 
long  and  hard. 


1   1 

1 

1. 

1      , 

1  ' 

* 

1  ■ 

:i: 


!m       !      ■  » 


III!,' 


HI 


!; 
Ill, 


ih» 


'    I 


86 


T'zz'^;  zOiVA'  no  USB. 


Holding  the  reins  in  one  hand,  the  joung  man  was 
pointing  with  iiis  whip  toward  the  north. 

'"So  that's  tlie  way  to  Fontche,  is  it^"  lie  was  say- 
ing, half-nuisiugly.  "  1  thought  it  lay  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Can  1  reach  it  to-night,  do  you  think  f '  he 
said,  turning  to  Mr.  llowlie. 

"  Well,  yes,  sir ;  you  might,  and  then  again  you 
mightn't,"  responded  that  worthy,  scratching  his  bald 
pate  in  perplexity. 

"How  many  miles  is  it  from  here?"  asked  tiie 
stranger,  adjusting  his  horse's  girths. 

"  Well,  sometimes  it's  more,  and  then  again  some- 
times it's  less,"  replied  Mr.  Kowlie,  sententiously. 

The  handsome  stranger  looked  up  and  favored 
mine  host  with  a  stare  of  so  much  surprise  at  this 
announcement,  that  Mrs.  Kowlie  felt  called  u[)on  to 
strike  in. 

"  He  means,  if  you  ploaso,  sir,"  said  that  little  wo- 
man, dropping  a  smiling  little  courtesy,  "  that  it's  ac- 
cording to  the  way  you  go.  li  you  take  the  turnpike,  it's 
nigh  onto  forty  n)ile  ;  but  it'  you  go  over  the  mountain, 
it's  ten  miles  less,  sir,  if  you  [)lea80." 

"Oh  " — said  the  stranger,  enlightened,  and  touch- 
ing his  hat  gallantly  to  the  old  lady  in  acknowledgment 
— "  I  see  ;  but  as  1  am  a  complete  stranger  here,  I  do 
not  know  the  way  over  the  mountains  ;  and  it  would  bo 
rather  inconvenien*",  not  to  say  unpleasant,  to  break  my 
neck  just  at  ])resent.  So,  on  the  whole,  I'll  take  tho 
road  for  it ;  my  horse  will  do  it  in  live  hours,  I  think. 
Is  it  going  to  storm  before  midnight,  think  you  T'  said 
the  stranger,  glancing  at  Mr.  Kowlie. 

"  Well,  now,  there  ain't  never  no  saying  about  the 
weather  hereabouts,  'cause  it  generally  does  wl.'at  it 
ain't  expected  to  do.  It  might  rain,  you  know,  and 
then  again  it  miglitn'l,"  faid  Mr.  Kowlie,  evidently  de- 
termined :»ot  to  commit  himseli". 

The  stranger  laughed. 

"Oh  1  thank  you  ;  quite  enlightened.  What  an  ac- 
quisition you  would  be  to  an  almanac-maker,   my  good 


4 


^- 


THE    LONE    no  USE. 


37 


man  was 

was  say- 

opposlto 

ink  ("  lie 

L^ain  you 
his  bald 

sked  tiie 

lin  some- 
sly. 

lavored 
D  at  this 

upon  to 

little  wo- 
nt it's  ac- 
pike,  it's 
louiitain, 

d  touch- 
d_i;'nient 
13 re,  I  do 
ould  bo 
•oak  my 
ikc  tho 
I  think. 
II T  said 

)()ut  the 
wl.'at  it 
ow,  and 
utly  de- 


it  an  ae- 
ly  good 


friend.  Well,  I  thinlc  I  will  try  your  road  for  it — and 
an  infernal  road  it  is;  my  horse  is  lamed  already. 
Good-bye,  my  friend;  p;uod-bye,  madam,"  said  the 
voun""  man,  gathering  up  tho  reins  preparatory  to  start- 


ing, 


Ml  tliir^  time  Captain  Nick  had  been  watching  him, 
ail. 1  listoiiimx  intently;  and  now  muttering  :  '' JSiot  so 
fa--t,  my  hue  fellow.  I'll  lind  out  wnat  you  re  made  of 
lir>t,"  he  came  out,  and  stood  directly  in  his  way. 

"  Vii^'^  pardon,  sir — going  to  Fontelle,  eh  V 

'•  Yes,  sir;  have  you  any  objection  V  said  tho  young 
man,  soothing  his  horse,  startled  by  the  captain's  sudden 
appearance. 

"Not  the  least,  my  young  friend.  May  I  ask  your 
business  there  f 

The  young  man  raised  his  handsome  eyes,  and  lixed 
them  full  on  the  captain  for  a  moment,  and  said  quiet- 

"Yes;  you  may  ask,  but  whether  I'll  answer,  or 
not,  is  another  (piestion." 

"  You'd  like  a  guide  over  the  mountains,  wouldn't 
you?"  continued  the  unabashed  captain.  '"What  would 
you  think  of  me,  now^" 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  carelessly,  "after  nui- 
ture  deliberation  on  the  subject,  1  should  say,  if  1  want- 
ed an  impertinent  scoundrel  for  a  guide,  i  should  take 
you.  Your  face  is  anvthinj''  but  a  letter  of  reconnnen- 
dation,  my  good  friend." 

"Then,  by  Heaven!"  said  the  captain,  his  face 
growing  crimson  with  anger,  ''■  my  deeds  shall  not  belie 
my  face.  Out  of  this  jou  shall  not  stir  until  y(ju  hayc 
answered  for  that  e])ithet !" 

•"My  dear  sir,  you  really  must  (^xcuse  me,"  said  tho 
young  man,  in  his  careless  way;  "1  never  quarrel,  saye 
with  gonthMnc!!." 

With  a  tierce  oath.  Captain  Tempest  grasped  the 
stranger's  bridle-rein  so  violently  that  the  horse  almost 
fell  back  on  his  liaunches. 


I 


1 1 


M 


f        i 


1^ 


M^ 


!         t 


► 


I       ,t  I 


28 


Ti/"^    LONE    HOUSE. 


"  You  violent  young  puppy !  do  you  know  who  you 
are  talking  to?"  he  cried,  in  (i  voice  hoarse  with  passion. 

'SSome  rascally,  lowd)red  Yankee,  1  have  no  doubt ! 
Come,  sir,  let  go  my  bridle-rein  !"  said  the  stranger, 
caludy,  but  with  a  sudden  rising  light  in  his  eyes  that 
might  have  warned.  Captain  Tempest  of  his  danger. 

But  Captain  Tempest,  hearing  only  his  calm,  even 
tone,  laughed  insolently  in  his  face,  and  grasped  it  all 
the  tighter.  As  he  did  so,  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm, 
and  the  boy  Jacinto  stood  beside  him,  his  momentary 
emotion  all  gone,  and  his  face  expressing  only  concern 
{•.t  the  cpiarrel. 

''  Do  let  go,  captain.  Why  should  you  quarrel  with 
him,  a  perfect  stranger?"  said  the  boy,  earnestly. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  stranger  had  given  a 
sudden  start,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  face,  with  a  half- 
puzzled  look,  like  one  who  tries  to  remendjcr  something. 
Jacinto  did  not  meet  his  gaze — he  was  looking  intently 
at  the  ca})tain. 

"  Go  to  the  d — 1 !"  was  his  harsh  response,  as  ho 
shook  olf  the  boy's  hand  and  tightened  his  hold  of  the 
bridle,  never  for  a  moment  relaxing  his  insulting  stare 
of  derisive  triumph  from  the  sti'anger's  face. 

The  words  recalled  the  youug  man  from  the  tran- 
sient interest  Jacinto  had  excited,  and  with  a  stern  com- 
pression of  his  handsome  mouth,  and.  ;\  bright,  angry 
llasli  of  his  handsome  eye,  he  turned  to  the  ca[)tain. 

"  Will  you  let  go  my  bridle-rein,  sir?"  he  said  in  a 
hijifh,  i-iuiiiuii:  tone. 

''No !"  said  the  ca])tain,  with  a  sneer. 

"Then,  by  Jove  !  I'll  make  you!"  ho  cried,  and 
quick  as  lightning  he  raised  his  whip  and  cut  the  cap- 
tain a  blinding  slas-h  in  the  face. 

AVith  a  shriek  of  a  beast  of  l)rey,  Captain  Tem])est, 
bleeding  and  blinded,  sprang  back,  and  with  a  dei'isivu 
shout,  the  young  man  struck  spurs  into  his  horse  and 
llew  down  the  nxal,  shouting  back  a-  he  vlid  so: 

"Good  evening,  my  kind  friend  I — better  luck  next 
tiniol"     And,  with  a  laugh,  he  was  out  of  sight  in  a 


TEE    LONE    HOUSE. 


29 


who  you 

passion, 

0  doubt ! 
3ti'iui_ii:er, 
?yes  that 
iiger. 
hii,  even 
ud  it  ail 
his  arm, 
mentary 

concern 

•rcl  with 

1  ii^ivcn  a 
li  a  lialf- 
iiethini>:. 
intently 

3,  as  ho 
il  of  the 
ng  stare 

ic  tran- 
rn  eoni- 
t,  angry 
lain. 
Aid  in  a 


xl,  and 
lie  cap- 

t'nijx'st, 
Icrisive 
rse  and 

k  next 
it  in  a 


■hi 


moment.  The  last  glimpse  he  had  of  Captain  Tempest, 
showing  him  livid  and  ioaniing  at  the  mouth,  in  a  per- 
fect fivnzj  of  impot<jnt  rage. 

The  young  man  rode  on  rapidly  for  nearly  half  an 
hour,  casting  a  glance  back  every  now  and  then,  as  if 
lie  expected  jmrsuit ;  and  wheii  it  became  too  dark  to 
FCC,  halting  at  intervals  to  listen.  Nothing  met  his  ear, 
however,  l>ut  the  faint,  distant  liooming  of  the  sea,  and 
the  melancholv  wailinii;  of  the  wind,  that  M'as  risinj:: 
each  moment ;  and  his  sharp  pace  gradually  relaxed, 
and  loosening  the  reins  on  his  horse's  neck,  he  snllered 
him  to  go  at  a  more  moderate  pace. 

Isight  had  fallen  at  last — fallen  in  more  than  Egyp- 
tian darkness — with  a  "gloomy  sky  above,  a  gloomy 
earth  below."  The  wind  came  wailing  np  from  the 
sea,  and  over  the  distant  hills,  in  long,  lamcMitable  blasts, 
and  a  thin,  drizzling,  uncomfortable  rain  that  pierced 
the  ski  1,  began  to  fall  M'ith  it.  The  blast  was  I'aw,  and 
cold,  too;  and,  with  a  shiver,  the  young  man  lifted  a 
folded  cloak  <)f  black  ch/th,  lined  with  rich  fur,  that  lay 
over  the  saddle,  and  Hung  it  aroung  his  shoulders.  In 
vain  he  sti'ove  to  pierce  throngh  the  Tartarian  darkness 
— the  eyes  of  Arij;us  himself  would  have  :*^'ailed  in  such 
a  night ;  so,  put  in.g  his  hat  down  over  his  face,  to  shade 
it  from  the  blinding  rain,  he  allowed  his  wearied  steed 
to  jog  on  after  his  own  will. 

"If  1  had  1'  ju^ht  the  storm  would  have  arisen  so 
soon,  I  Would  have  staid  at  that  imi  all  night,"  he  said 
in  a  sort  of  6olilo(piy;  "but  it's  too  late  now,  and  I 
must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  I)argain.  On,  Salad  in,  my 
l)oy,  on!  Tliere  is  rest  and  comfort  in  store  for  you, 
once  we  reach  Fontelle.  I  wonder  if  there  is  no  house 
along  the  way,  where  I  could  stay  for  the  night ;  or 
have  1  lo.- 1  my  way  among  the  wilds  of  Jersey  i  What 
a  J)on  Quix(jte  I  am,  to  be  sure!"  lie  said,  with  a  slight 
laugh,  "to  leave  !Men'ie  England  and  ride  over  to 
America  in  search  ot"  adventures,  and  begin  l)y  horse- 
whi])ping  one  of  the  natives.  What  a  remark;d)ly  liand- 
Bome  boy  that  w^as,  and  how  his  \oice  did  remind  nio 


I 


n 


i; 
ii'l 


^'f 


;!(i 


l!t! 


W 


,i 


I  1  ' 


iHi 


80 


37/^    Z0.YJ5;    HOUSE. 


I 


of — lux !  if  tliat's  not  a  liii^lit,  hy  all  that's  lucky  !  Turn. 
Sahulin  !  tlicre's  f^lielter  at  hand  !'' 

Fill-  in  tlie  dibtanc-e,  dindv  tM'inldlno;  thronirh  the 
deep  u'lodin,  tlie  tvuvek'r  liad  cautrht  a  faint,  uiiftTtain 
ray  of  lii^ht,  and  never  did  Ftorni-tosi^ed  mariner  Lnil 
the  weleDUie  l>eacon  more  t^'ladely  than  did  he.  Siiladin 
saw  it,  too,  and  priekiiii,^  u])  his  ears,  lie  mended  his  de- 
jected ])ace  and  struck  otit'  from  the  high-road  in  the 
diicction  whence  it  came. 

Nearly  an  Imnr  had  elapsed  since  his  leaving  the 
IMermnid,  and  the  young  man  judged  he  had  come 
about  six  miles  during  that  time.  The  light  appeared, 
as  he  went,  to  have  been  further  off  tlian  at  lirst  he  liad 
supposed;  and  the  house,  if  house  it  were,  to  be  situ- 
ated in  a  sort  of  marsh,  or  bog,  into  whicli  his  horse 
suid<  at  every  step,  ^till,  Saladin  plowed  his  way 
bravely  on,  sinking  and  rising  again, until  tlie  light  was 
reached  at  last,  and  the  traveler  saw  it  issued  from  an 
upper  wind(jw  of  a  solitary  liouse — in  very  truth,  a 
*'  lonesome  lodge  that  stood  so  low  in  lonely  glen." 

''  Now,  the  saints  alone  know  what  sort  of  sav^ages 
live  here,"  said  the  young  man,  as  he  alighted,  and 
raising  the  handle  of  his  heavy  riding-whij),  knocked 
loudly  and  authoritatively  at  the  door;  "'  but  be  they 
goblins,  kelpies,  or  earthly  sinners,  J '11  try  them,  sooner 
than  pass  such  a  night  as  this  is  going  to  be,  under  the 
cold  canopy  of  a  JS'ew  Jersey  sky."  And  again  he 
knocked  as  if  he  woidd  have  I  eaten  down  tlie  stout 
oaken  door. 

A  moment  after,  and  the  sound  of  bolts  withdraw- 
ing met  his  ear ;  and  the  next,  it  swung  partially  back, 
but  as  he  attempted  to  enter  he  was  held  back  by  a 
chain  which  prevented  the  door  opening  sulhciently  for 
that  purpose.  Not  a  ray  of  light  could  he  see,  l)ut  only 
a  white  fac<^  that  shone  through  the  deej")  darkness. 

"Who  are  you f  said  a  harsh,  uni)leasant  voice, 
that  might  have  belonged  either  to  a  man  or  a 
wonuui. 

"  A  traveler  caught  in  tho  storm,  wlio,  seeing  the 


TUB    LONE    HOUSE. 


81 


ky\  Turn, 

iroiigli  the 
,  init'crtiiin 
inriiiLM'  liiiil 
).  Saladin 
(led  Ills  de- 
roud  ill  the 

caving  tlie 

had  come 

:  aj)]ioaiTd, 

irst  ho  iiad 

to  be  situ- 

his  hor.^e 

d   his  way 

e  light  was 

id  ironi  an 

•y  truth,  a 

glen." 

of  savages 

ghted,  and 

),  knocked 

t  be  they 

em,  sooner 

under  the 

again  he 

tlie  etout 

withdraw- 
ially  back, 
back  by  a 
jicntly  for 
3,  but  only 
kness. 
int  voice, 
nan   or  a 


seeing  the 


jio-ht,  has  sought  shelter  here,"  he  answered,  prom])t- 

"  Arc  you  alone?" 

"  Yes ;  unless  you  call  my  horse  company.  Come, 
mv  friend,  be  hospitable  enough  to  let  me  in.  Iain 
able  to  pay  you,  as  it  happens,  for  a  night's   lodging." 

"Enter,"  said  the  invisible  voice,  withdrawing  the 
chiiin.  "■  One  has  to  be  careful  who  they  admit  these 
times;  for  since  the  war  there  have  been  mar.iuding 
jiarties  of  soldiers  knocking  about  the  country,  and  it 
makes  it  dangerous  for  a  poor,  lone  woman  to  admit 
every  one.     AValk  in,  sir  ;  Til  see  to  your  horse." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  always  make  a  point  of  doing  that 
myself.     I'll  accompany  you,  if  you'll  allow  me." 

''As  you  like.  Uere,  Orrie!  Orrie!"  called  the 
woman,  suddenly  throwing  open  a  door  and  admitting 
such  a  flood  of  light  from  a  huge,  blazing  lire,  that  for 
a  moment  the  stranger^s  eyes,  accustomed  so  long  to  the 
darkness,  were  half-blinded. 

"  Wluit^"  said  a  childish  voice,  so  close  to  his  el- 
bow that  he  started  ;  and  looking  down  he  saw  a  little 
boy,  apparently  about  twelve  years  of  age — the  most 
eltish  mite  of  childhood  he  had  ever  beheld — with  a 
small,  thin,  dark  face,  j)recocious  beyond  its  years,  and 
lit  up  by  a  pair  of  the  most  wonderful  black  eyes  that 
evei'  were  seen.  Its  dress  was  an  odd  alfair — a  short 
red-llannel  skirt  under  a  boy's  jacket,  and  a  boy's  cap 
crushed  down  over  a  tangled  mass  of  short,  thick  curls, 
from  beneath  which  gleamed  its  odd,  wild,  cunning, 
little,  eltish  face. 

"Take  tiie  lantern  and  show  the  gentleman  the  way 
to  the  stable,"  said  the  woman — a  remarkably  tall,  hard- 
featured  specimen  of  femaledom — as  she  passed  into 
the  room  and  left  liim. 

The  child  darted  away,  and  presently  re-appeared 
with  a  dark-lantern  ;  and  springing  out  into  the  rain, 
seizod  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  led  him  oif,  followed 
by  his  master,  who  laughed  to  himself  at  the  odd  figure 
the  child  cut. 


ti 


i;* 


i  • 


II 


il 


u 


'  It 

I'  1 


'It'll'       1 
^'■l;i       i 


1.  .11 


Hi  I 


^1 


ii  I 


82 


TUB    LONE    no  USE. 


'•  What  a  spicy  tiger  tliat  same  little  atom  of  man- 
kind would  iJialvo!  and  what  a  rii^  he  has  on,  to  be 
sure  !  llo  woiiUl  1)0  worth  a  luiUioii  in  cash  to  ride 
the  favorite  at  the  Dcrl)y." 

Tiic  child  led  the  anitnal  into  the  Ftal)le  occupied 
by  another  horse,  and  tied  him  up,  and  l)i>i::an  un- 
loosening Ids  trap[)ings  in  a  twinkling.  The  .young 
man  assisted  him,  and  when  Saladin  had  been  properly 
rubbed  down  and  cared  for,  tliev  both  left  the  stable 
together,  and  turned  toward  the  house. 

"  You're  quite  used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  I  see,  my 
lad,"  he  said,  glancing  in  ^ningled  curiosity  and  amuse- 
ment at  the  boy. 

"  Tying  up  horses  ? — sliould  think  I  was,"  said  the 
child,  with  something  like  a  chuckle. 

"Is  this  a  regular  tavern,  sonny  V 

"No  ;  but  folks  stop  here  sometimes,  though." 

"  Who  lives  here  ?     What's  your  name,  my  boy  ?" 

"  I  ain't  your  boy!  I  ain't  a  boy  at  all!  I'm  a 
girl !  and  my  name's  Oriole ;  but  for  short  they  call 
me  Orrie,"  said  the  little  one,  sharply. 

"  Whew  !"  whistled  the  young  man  ;  "  here's  a  dis- 
covery. I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons;  but  your  dress 
led  me  into  error.  What  nudvcs  you  wear  boy's 
clothes  ?" 

"  Oh !  she  makes  me  wear  whatever's  handiest  1" 

"  AVho  is  '  she,'  Miss  Oriole  V 

"  Why  she,  you  know— her  that  let  you  in." 

"  Oh  !  that  tall  old  woman  !     Is  she  your  mother?" 

"My  mother  f  said  the  child,  with  a  shrill,  cllish 
laugh  ;  "  no,  I  ain't  gt)t  none — never  iiad  any.  She's 
only  old  Grizzle !" 

They  had  reached  the  door  by  this  time,  and  the 
little  one  darted  in,  in  her  (piick  way,  held  it  open  for 
the  stranger,  and  tiien  closed  and  bolted  it  again  in  a 
flash. 

"  Come  along,  right  in  here,"  said  Oriole,  wliose 
fleet  motion  reminded  liim  of  her  namesake,  as  she 
held  open  the  door  of  what  seemed  to  be  the  kitchen, 


)f   man- 

n,  to  bo 
to  rido 

ccnpied 

ixnn  iiii- 

:/f 

yoiino: 
ropcrly 
e  stable 

see,  my 
ainusG- 

■'* 

THE    LONE    HOUSE. 


a.T 


>aid  the 


5) 


1. 

boy  ?" 

I'm  a 
icy  call 

a  dis- 
drcss 
boy's 

bt!" 


101- ?" 
eliish 
She's 

id  the 

Ml  for 

in  a 


liose 
she 
3heii, 


,s 


np  the  ample  chimney  of  which  roared  and  crackled  a 
huLCG  tire — a  welcome  sight  to  our  coL  and  weary 
traveler. 

'•  Set  a  chair  for  the  gentleman,  Orrlc.  Sit  up  to 
tlu!  lire,  sir,  and  warm  yourself,"  said  the  woman,  as 
slio  whipped  a  large  pot  olf  the  lire,  from  which  issued 
a  f-avory  odor  of  boiled  pork. 

The  young  man  looked  at  her,  and  thought  that  in 
all  his  life  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  a  more  villainous 
and  re})ul.>ive-looking  specimen  of  the  angelic  sex.  Jt 
seemed  to  him  that  she  imparted  a  sinister  character 
even  to  the  peaceful  and  domestic  occupation  of  pre- 
paring supper. 

"  Woman,  lovely  woman  !"  thought  the  young  man, 
with  a  half-laugh,  as  he  looked  at  her  grisly  face,  almost 
hideous  in  its  ugliness,  now  that  the  hood  of  her  cloak, 
which  she  still  wore,  was  thrown  back.  "  What  a 
mouth  for  kissing!  I  wonder  if  by  any  possibility 
anyb(»dy  could  ever  have  loved  that  woman,  for  in  her 
best  days  she  must  have  been  worse  t!ian  uglv — wicked  ! 
AVonder  what  this  queer  little  kelpie  in  the  bare  feet 
is  to  her.  Old  Grizzle!  a  most  appropriate  name.  A 
'poor  lone  woman,  indeed!'  It's  little  she  need  fear 
intruders,  guarded  by  the  three-headed  dragon  of  Age, 
Ugliness,  and  Poverty." 

The  young  man  arose,  and  turning  his  back  to  the 
lliv,  brought  his  coat-tails  forward  over  his  arms,  and 
with  his  legs  in  the  form  of  a  triangle,  subsided  into 
that  slate  of  tranquil  liap])iness  all  true-born  English- 
men i'l'el  in  the  above  ])Osition,  and  saidc  into  a  day- 
dreaii!,  from  whieh  a  call  to  siqiper  awoke  him. 

The  hungiy  traveler  obeyed  with  alacrity,  ])ull!ng 
out  his  watch,  an  elegant  gold  one  set  with  brilliants, 
to  see  the  liour.  As  he  rej)laced  it,  he  started  slightly 
to  see  the  lierce  gleaming  eyes  of  the  woman  lixed  upon 
it,  with  a  greedy,  devouring  gaze,  that  was  instantly 
removed  the  moment  their  eyes  met. 

That  look  was  a  revelation.  lieplacing  the  watch, 
ho  sat  dovm.  in  silence  to  supper,  inwardly  wondering 


Kli 


I 


n 


1     1' 


It!   f^ 


U.\ 


■I 


,11 


:i 


'■i  i  i' 


84 


y/Z^    LONE    HOUSE. 


Avlietlier  he  would  not  liave  been  quite  as  safe  out  in 
the  slonu  us  liere,  and  v^hether,  as  the  old  adau:e  has  it, 
"  he  had  not  halluoed  before  lie  was  out  of  the  woods." 
Dui'iiiij:  the  meal,  he  was  assiduously  waited  on  bvthc 
woman,  wiio  made  various  efforts  to  draw  from  him  h*.-> 
name  and  business,  which  he  completely  battled  by  his 
evasive  axiswcrs. 

"'  Your  room  is  all  ready,  sii',  and  you  can  go  to  it 
whenever  yon  like,"  said  the  woman,  as  he  arose  from 
the  table. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  p;o  now.  But  first,"  he  said, 
carelessly,  "I  will  look  lo  my  pistols,  lest  the  priming 


may  have  got  wet  with  llu 


ram 


:■? 


lie  drew  out  from  the  brea^t-])Ockct  of  his  great-coat, 
as  lie  spoke,  a  pair  of  handsomely- mounted  pistols,  and 
examined  them  carefully.  As  he  suddenly  looked  up 
from  his  occupation,  he  caught  his  hostess  looking  at 
liiin  with  something  like  a  sneer  on  her  repulsive  face. 

"It  is  not  safe  to  travel  nnarmed  these  times,"  he 
said,  looking  her  full  in  the  face,  as  he  replaced  them. 
"  A  well-])rimed  pistol  is  about  the  best  thing  a  man 
can  have  just  at  present." 

"  Quite  right,  sir,"  said  the  woman,  lighting  a  cau- 
dle.    "  This  way,  if  yon  please." 

lie  turned  and  followed  her  np  a  flight  of  stairs, 
and  into  a  large,  dark,  low-ceiHnged  room,  where  a  lire 
was  dimly  burning.  In  one  corner  stood  a  bed,  and  in 
another  a  table,  and  this,  with  a  corij)le  of  chairs,  com- 
prised the  sole  furniture  of  the  room.  Setting  the 
candle  on  the  table,  the  woman  bade  him  good-night, 
and  left  tiie  room. 

But  somehow,  tired  as  he  was,  the  young  stranger 
could  not  make  np  his  mind  to  go  to  bed. 

There  seemed  something  evil  and  sinister  about  the 
woman,  and  the  jdace  altogether,  that  banished  all  de- 
sire for  sleep.  This  lonely  house,  far  removed  from 
every  other  habitation,  was  just  the  place  for  deeds  of 
blood  and  darkness.  All  the  old  tales  he  had  ever 
heard  or  read  of  travelers  robbed   and  murdered  in 


,ii'-  € 


-.5 


THE    LONE    HOUSE. 


85 


3  out  in 
e  has  it, 
wootb." 
1  hvtIiG 
lain  l)!.i 
.  bj  his 

go  to  it 
se  from 

lie  said, 
^riminrj 

;at-coat, 
ols,  and 
>ked  up 
•kini,^  lit 
va  face. 
les,"  lie 
[  tlieni. 
a  mail 

a  can- 
stairs, 

a  lire 
ii'l  in 

eoni- 
i;'  the 
night, 


rann'or 


lit  tllG 

ill  de- 
i'roni 

!d8  of 
ever 

ed  in 


lonesome  old  houses,  and  never  heard  of  more,  came 
crowding  through  his  mind,  until  he  had  worked  him- 
self into  a  waking  nightmare.  Placing  his  pistols  on 
the  table,  he  raised  the  blind  and  tried  to  look  out,  but 
ir  was  as  dark  as  Erebus,  and  a  ])crfect  tempest  of  wind 
and  rain  was  raging.  Preferring  to  risk  the  uncertain 
danger  of  robbery  and  murder,  rather  tlian  the  more 
certain  one  of  a  complete  drenching,  he  flung  himself 
into  a  chair  before  the  fire  and  fell  into  deep  thought. 
An  hour  passed,  and  then  another,  and  all  was  perfectly 
still.  The  lire  began  to  burn  low  on  the  hearth,  and 
the  candle  llared  and  guttered  on  the  table.  Kising 
with  a  yawn,  the  young  man  was  about  to  throw  him- 
self, dressed  and  all,  on  the  bed,  when  a  sight  caught 
his  eye  that  startled  him  almost  as  much  as  the  ghost 
of  BaiKiuo  did  King  Macbeth.  At  the  head  of  the 
bed,  on  the  whitewashed  wall,  was  the  dark,  clotted 
mark  of  live  lingers,  as  if  a  bloody  hand  had  been  sud- 
denly dashed  against  it.  There  it  was,  glittering  red, 
and  ghastly,  and  horrible,  in  the  dyin<^  light  of  the  fire 
— that  bleeding  hand  on  the  wall.  It  seemed  so  like 
the  realization  of  his  fears,  so  like  a  ghost  risen  from 
the  dead  to  warn  him,  that  he  recoiled  in  horror  from 
the  grisly  sight,  and  gazed  on  it  with  pretty  much  the 
same  feelings  as  Itobinson  Crusoe  gazed  on  the  solitary 
footj^rint  on  the  sand. 

All  thought  of  going  to  bed  was  now  out  of  the 
question,  and  approaching  his  door  he  opened  it  softly 
and  listened.  The  door  at  the  foot  of  the  sitairs,  open- 
ing into  the  kitchen,  was  ajar,  and  through  it,  plainly 
audible  to  his  ears,  came  the  subdued  hum  of  several 
V(jice5 — men's  voices  too. 

The  young  traveler  had  stood  face  to  face  with 
death  ami  danger  many  a  time  before  now,  and  had 
plenty  of  physical  courage  ;  and  now  as  he  saw  his  full 
danger,  his  nerves  seemed  changed  to  steel,  and  his 
handsome  face  grew  set  and  stern. 

Softly  removing  his  heavy  boots,  he  stole  noiselessly 
down  the  stairs,  and  through  the  crevice  in  the  door  he 


86 


TUB    LONE    no  USE. 


W 


^    I 


|:,jt 


•  ii    'li 


could  plainly  see  and  hear  all  that  passed  in  the  room — 
himself  unobserved.  Three  men,  one  stout,  middle- 
aged  and  bhort,  the  other  t^vo  young,  and  of  almost 
gigantic  stature,  either  of  whom  might  have  taken  a 
premium  for  villainous  countenances,  sat  round  the 
tire,  talking  in  low,  earnest  voices.  The  woman  Griz- 
zle, the  most  villainous-lookinii-of  the  lot,  sat  beside  the 
elder,  and  it  was  her  voice  he  lirst  heard. 

"  I  tell  you  it's  worth  lifty  pounds,  if  it's  worth  a 
farthing  !"  she  was  saying.  "  It  was  set  with  gems — 
real  brilliants,  too — none  of  your  sham  cheats  ;  and 
he's  a  born  aristocrat  himself,  if  ever  I  saw  one — noth- 
ing of  the  swell  or  humbug  about  him.  Of  course,  he 
has  more  money  with  him  than  that,  and  you  will  iind 
him  the  best  bird  you  have  plucked  this  m.any  a  day  1" 

"  But  the  pistols  ?"  said  the  short,  stout  man. 

"  Pooh  !  he's  asleep  before  this.  The  light's  out 
of  his  room,  and  even  with  his  pistols,  what  can  he  do 
in  the  dark — and  against  three  ?  He  thinks  Ave  will 
come  in  at  the  door,  if  he  thinks  of  it  at  all,  which  is 
not  likely,  though  he  is  wide  awake,  I  can  tell  you. 
What  does  he  know  about  the  trap  under  the  bed  'i  I 
tell  you  there's  no  danger,  and  it  will  be  five  hundred 
pounds,  if  not  more,  in  your  pocket.  What  makes  it 
better,  he's  a  stranger,  too — I  know  he  is,  though  he 
was  as  close  as  an  oyster,  and  dodged  every  qucsf  ion  I 
asked  him." 

Some  strange  magnetic  attraction  made  the  young 
man  remove  his  eyes  from  the  speaker's  face,  and  he 
was  startled  to  encounter  a  pair  of  great,  wild,  glitter- 
ing black  orbs,  fixed  full  upon  him,  riveted  to  his  face. 
It  was  the  child,  Oriole,  crouched  up  in  a  corner,  her 
great  black  eyes  l)earmg  full  upon  him. 

lie  half  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  warn  her  to  be 
silent,  when  the  voice  of  one  of  the  young  men  caught; 
and  fixed  his  attention. 

"  Of  course,  there's  no  danger  ;  and  that  fellow's  as 
safely  done  for  as  if  his  throat  was  sli^  from  ear  to  car 
this  minute.     When  are  we  to  settle  him,  mother  ?" 


*iiy 


THE    LONE    HOUSE. 


37 


.1 


« I'll  go  lip  to  his  door  and  listen  first,"  said  the 
woman,  rising,  "and  try  to  find  ont  whetlier  lie's 
asleep,  or  only  shannning.     I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

'' Jle'U  soon  sleep  somid  enough,  I'll  warrant  him  " 
tuiid  the  other  young  man,  stirring  up  the  lire  with'a 
laugh. 

At  that  moment  the  young  stranger  felt  l  hand 
icy  cold,  grasp  his  wrist  from  behind  with  a  grip  of 
iron;  and  with  a  half-repressed  ejaculation  he  turned 
round  to  see  who  had  caught  him. 


^'^ 


88 


AN    ESCAPE. 


CHAPTER  III. 


AN     ESCAPE. 


i/ac&<!«A.— "What  do  ye  there  ?  " 
Witches. — "A  deed  without  a  uame."- 


-SnAKSPBARE. 


n:>Vl 


n 


•1 


USII !  "  said  a  terrilied  voice,  "  don't  make 
a  noise — don't  speak  !  It's  only  me." 

It   was  the  voice  of  tlie  child,  Orrie. 
The  young  man  glanced  in  wonder  to  the 
place  where  he  had  seen  her  last,  but  it 
was  empt}'-  now. 

"  Come  up  stairs,  quick  !  Oh,  hurry,  hurry  !'*  ex- 
claimed the  child,  in  an  agonized  whisper,  as  her  little 
hand  clenched  his  wrist  for  a  moment,  with  almost 
supernatural  strength,  and  then  she  tlitted  as  lightly 
and  noiselessly  as  a  shadow  up  the  stairs. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose.  The  woman,  who  had 
stood  listening  while  they  spoke,  now  started  to  cross 
the  room  ;  and  the  stranger,  taking  two  or  three  steps 
at  a  time,  sprang  lightly  up  the  stairs  and  entered  his 
chamber. 

Little  Oriole  was  ther",  before  him  ;  and  the  mo- 
ment he  entered,  she  shv*  back  the  bolt  secured  the 
door. 

"Ilush!  Listen!"  said  the  child,  in  the  same 
startled  whisper.  "  Make  a  noise  when  she  comes,  so 
she  won't  think  you  arc  aslec}).  If  she  hears  you 
awake  she  won't  come  in  just  yet." 

The  creaking  sound  stairs  invariably  persist  in  mak- 
ing when  one  treads  them  on  tip-ioe,  warned  them  that 
the  lady  of  the  house  was  at  hand,  and  tlie  young  man, 
acting  on  the  child's  hint,  began  to  whistle,  pausing 


AN    ESCAPE. 


89 


rhtlj 


rao- 


i 


now  and  then,  and  moving  throngli  the  room  as  tliougli 
lie  were  preparing  for  bed.  Oriole  stood  with  hei-  ear 
glued  to  the  key-hole,  listening  with  all  her  might, 
holding-  up  one  little  linger  wariiingly,  and  now  and 
then  giving  iiim  an  approving  nod.  At  last  she  raised 
her  head,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  IShe's  gone,"  she  said,  coming  over  and  looking 
earnestly  up  in  his  face;  "  l^ut  she'll  come  back,  and  so 
will  they— old  Till,  and  Kit,  and  IJiaize." 

'*  J\ly  dear  little  girl,  how  in  tlie  world  came  yon  on 
the  stairs  that  time  V^  said  the  young  man,  who  at  lirst 
had  been  inclined  to  distrust  her ;  but  the  terror  and 
earnestness  of  her  face  was  too  real  to  be  assumed. 

"  I  saw  you,  and  came  round  the  back  way — there's 
another  joair  of  stairs,  at  the  end  of  the  house,  that  we 
come  up  sometimes,  and  1  had  to  come  round  or  old 
Grizzle  would  have  seen  me.  But  oh  !  what  will  you 
<lo  f  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her  hands.  "  They'll  all 
come  up  by  and  by,  and  take  all  your  money,  and 
then — "  she  j^auscd,  with  a  violent  shudder. 

"  AVell,  and  then  ?"  said  the  young  man,  looking  at 
the  child  with  more  curiosity  than  anything  else. 

"  They- 11  put  you  down  cellar!"  said  Oriole,  in  an 
awe-stricken  whisper,  her  large  eyes  dilating  with  hor- 
ror. 

"  Will  they  ?"  said  the  stranger.  "  I'm  not  so  sure 
about  that.  Ijiit,  good  heavens  !  what  an  infernal  den 
this  nuist  be  !  Do  they  often  put  people  down  cellar, 
as  you  call  it — which,  being  translated,  means  murder- 
ing them,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  no  ! — not  often.  I  only  saw  them  put  one 
down  ;  and  old  Grizzle  said — "  and  the  child  clung  to 
him  as  she  spoke,  and  her  great  black  eyes  grew  wild 
and  horror-stricken  again — "  that  if  1  ever  told  she 
would  ])nt  mo  down  with  him.  Oh !  don't  you  tell 
her !  Oh,  donH  tell  her !"  she  cried,  clasping  lier  little 


hand 


s  m  any  agony  ot  entreaty 


"  Tell  her,  my  dear  little  savior  !"  said  the  young 
man,  sitting  down  on  a  chair,  and  lifting  her  up  on  his 


•lii 


40 


AN    ESCAPE. 


^     Ml" 


,  I 


'!' 


I         i| 


i|i 


knee.  "  Not  I,  indeed  !  Wliat  inakcs  yon  live  in 
6uch  an  accnrsod  place  V 

Oriole  lilted  up  iier  lilack  eyes,  and  and  looked  at 
him  with  the  i^roatest  astonislnncnt  at  sueli  a  question. 

"  Why,  because  I've  got  to,"  she  said  decidedly. 

"  What  relation  is  this  old  hag  of  Hades  to  you,  my 
child  V' 

"  Hhe  ain't  nothin'  to  me  as  I  knows  of.  I  ain't 
iiotliin'  to  nobody,  J  guess." 

"  Then  how  came  you  to  live  here  with  lier?" 

"Lor,'  how  bhould  I  know  f '  said  the  child,  with  an 
impatient  jerk  of  her  shoulders.  "  Where's  the  good 
of  your  askiui'  about  tiiat,  when  vou  know  wellenonii;h 
they're  coming  up  to  kill  you,  by  and  by  ^" 

"That's  true  enouf^h,  by  dove!"  said  the  young 
man,  starting  up.  "  We  must  take  measures  to  baltio 
their  kind  intentions,  my  precocious  little  friend.  I 
heard  them  mention  a  trajj-door  under  the  bed  when  1 
was  listening  on  the  stairs,  and  here  goes  <"o  look  for 
it!" 

Ho  attempted  to  move  (he  bed  as  lie  spoke,  but  it 
resisted  ail  his  elt'orts. 

"  Vou  can't  move  it,"  said  Oriole,  "and  there  ain't 
no  use  a  trying.     JJon't  you  see  it's  nailed  downf' 

"  Well ;  but  what  about  tliis  trap  t  i  nuist  see  after 
that,  my  little  sjirite."  And  lie  \\\{od  the  valance  of 
tlie  bed,  and  stooped  down  to  examine  the  lloor. 

"Ligh!"'  said  Orrie,  with  a  shudder;  "  that's  the 
way  tiiey  go  down  cellar,  and  tliat's  the  way  they  will 
come  up  here.  Don't  yon  lift  it  \\\) — 1  wouldn't  go 
near  it  for  the  world  !     Oil,  i  torgot !     You  can't  any- 


way, 


'cause  it's  fastened  underneath." 


"So,  then,  thei'e  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  sit 
licre  and  wait  till  they  thinic  |)roj)er  to  come  and  linisli 
me,"  said  the  young  man,  rising  and  wafidiig' up  and 
down  the  room;  "ainigiu.y  |>leasant  prospect,  upon  my 
word!  i  might  as  well  deliver  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment, veritably  at  once,  to  this  queer  little  damsel,  and 
then  devote  tljc  remainder  of  the  time  to  prej)aring  for 


AN    ESCAPE. 


41 


lieaven,  or — the  other  place  !  I  say,  my  little  friend,  I 
wonder  they  are  so  itnprndent  as  to  allow  yon  to  know 
about  these  blood-chillini^  things,  or  to  be  in  the  room 
with  them  while  they  are  plotting  their  hellish 
schemes  C 

"  Well,  they  wouldn't  cither;  only  the  last  time  the 
man  screamed  out,  and  I  heard  him  and  came  in.  It 
was  in  this  room,  too,"  said  the  child,  sinking  her  voice 
to  a  whisper,  and  casting  a  territied  glance  around ;  "  and 
he  was  on  that  bed,  and  old  Grizzle  had  him  by  the 
hands,  and  J]hiize  by  the  feet ;  and  they  kept  him 
down,  and  his  lace  and  neck  was  all  covered  with  i)lood, 
and  he  screamed  out — oh,  dreadfully  ! — until  Kit  held 
the  pillow  over  his  face,  and  when  he  took  it  away,  ho 
was  as  still — oh,  as  still  as  anytliing  !  And  then" — and 
Oriole's  voice  sunk  lower  and  lower,  and  she  shivered 
convulsively — *' they  put  him  down  cellar — and  he's 
been  there  ever  since  !" 

A  slight  shudder  passed  through  the  form  of  the 
young  stranger,  and  a  look  of  horror  and  loathing  swept 
over  his  line  face. 

"  Heavens  above !  what  a  siiJi-ht  for  a  child  !  What  a 
sight  for  any  one  in  a  Christian  country !  What  did 
they  say  to  you  for  coming  in,  my  dear  chihH" 

"Oh!  jhiiize  would  have  killed  me,  only  she 
wouldn't  let  him ;  but  she  beat  me  dreadfully,"  said 
Oriole,  wincing  at  the  recollection.  ''  And  she  said,  if 
ever  J  told  any  one,  she  would  put  me  down  cellar  along 
with  him.  i  never  did  tell  any  one  either,  till  you 
come  ;  and  i  shouldn't  have  told  you,  only  they  were 
going  to  put  you  down  cellar  too.  Don't  you  tell  her, 
mind — you  said  you  wouldn't,  you  know  I" 

''Neither  i  shall — don't  fear.  And  so,  as  you  knew 
of  the  other  murder,  they  didn't  mind  your  being  in  the 
room  and  hearing  of  this  ^" 

"  JSio,"  said  Ofiole  ;  ''  they  thought  I  would  not  tell, 
you  know,  'cause  it's  a  good  long  while  since  then,  and 
1  never  did  tell  nobod)'." 


43 


^iV    ESCAPE, 


'.i 


I    111- 


'til 


iiii<    'It 


l|    1'     IF 


"  And  wjiy  is  it  that  I  am  to  bo  '  put  down  cellar,' 
as  you  call  it,  sinco  tlicy  liavo  let  otliers  escape  ?" 

'"Oh!  'cause  you've  got  money — old  Grizzle  says  so 
— and  a  nice  watch,  and  lots  of  things  ;  and  she  wants 
'em.  If  1  was  you,  I'd  give  them  to  her,  and  tell  lier 
I  wouldn't  tell  i.nybody.  They  won't  be  any  good  to 
you.  you  know,  if  you  are  killed  !" 

"  That's  true  enough,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
momentary  smile,  ""liut  supposing  I  neither  let  them 
kill  me,  nor  give  them  the  watch — eh?  How  would 
that  be,  Orric  ?  If  it  comes  to  killing,  I  rather  fancy 
they  will  find  two  can  play  at  that  game." 

"  liut  there's  four  of  then],  and  you  can't  kill  four," 
said  Orrie,  with  a  pnzzled  look. 

"  liarge  odds ;  but  I've  fought  against  as  many  be- 
fore now.  I  didn't  live  in  a  certain  green  island  of  th« 
west,  as  aid-de-camp  to  His  Grace  the  Lord  Lieutenant, 
for  three  years,  without  getting  into  a  shindj'^  now  and 
then — thank  fortune !"  said  the  young  Englishman, 
speaking  more  to  himself  than  Orrie. 

"  And  so  you're  going  to  kill  them  ?"  said  Orrie, 
with  simplicity. 

"I  shall  make  the  attempt,  my  young  friend;  and 
if  I  fail — why  there  will  only  be  a  scapegrace  the  less 
in  the  world.  But  sec  here,  my  good  little  girl,"  he  said, 
stopping  before  her,  and  lifting  the  tangled  hair  off  her 
small,  gipsy ish  face,  "  what  will  they  say  to  you,  wdien 
they  find  you  here  'i  they  will  half  kill  you,  won't  they  i" 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  forgot,"  said  the  child,  starting  np  in 
terror.  '^  I  nmst  go.  I  can't  stay,  you  know.  Old 
Grizzle,  no  doubt,  thinks  I  have  gone  to  bed ;  and  if 
she  were  to  catch  me  here,  she — " 

"  Would  put  you  down  cellar,"  said  the  young  man 
with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,"  said  Orrie,  moving  quickly  toward  the  door. 

But,  at  that  instant,  a  sudden  noise,  startling  enough, 
arrested  her  steps,  a  id  sent  her  young  bloodcurdling  to 
licr  lieart. 

It  was  the  liushcd  sound  of  footsteps  below,  and  a 


:.| 


I  I 


AN    ESCAPE. 


45 


door. 


LUg  to 


sudden  noise,  as  if  sonic  one  had  stumbled,  followed  l)y 
4|      a  iierce,  suppressed  oath  ;  and  then    there   was  an  in- 
stant's deatli-like  silence. 

As  if  frozen  where  she  stood,  the  child  Orrie  paused, 
\  her  great  bkujk  eyes  wikl  and  dilating,  her  lips  spriiig- 
\\\\X,  white  and  quivering,  apart,  her  small  hands  invol- 
untarily clenching  until  the  sharp  nails  saidv  in  the 
quivering  Hesli,  her  very  breathing  suspended,  until  it 
became  painful  to  listen  for  its  return.  Not  the  faintest 
sound  escaped  lier ;  she  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

Making  a  hasty  motion  for  her  to  be  silent,  the 
young  man  seized  a  pi^^tol  in  either  hand,  and  iixed  his 
eyes  steadily  on  the  trap-door,  his  handsome  face  set 
stern  and  resolute,  his  eye  bright,  bold  and  dauntless, 
his  ]")ulse  calm  and  steady. 

There  seemed  a  motnentary  pause  below,  in  winch 
nothiiinr  was  to  be  heard  but  the  beatinir  and  dashini»:of 
the  storm  without ;  and  then  there  came  the  near  sound 
of  bolts  cautiously  withdrawing  beneath. 

Tlie  young  stranger  grasped  his  pistol  tighter,  and 
sighted  it,  with  deadly  accuracy,  for  the  trap.  One 
moment  more,  and  one  at  least  of  these  midnight  assas- 
sins would  have  got  his  due;  but  Fate,  or  Providence, 
or  the  brave  young  Englishman's  guardian  angel  willed 
it  otherwise  ;  for,  at  that  moment,  in  the  very  crisis  of 
all'airs,  a  most  nnlooked-lor  interruption  occurred. 
}  A  loud  and  violent  knock — a  knock  that  shook  tho 

wl'ole  house  from   attic  to  cellar — resounded   on  the 
front  door. 

There  was  a  quick,  startled  ejaculation  from  below, 
and  the  bolt  was  nurriedly  shot  back. 
\  A  faint,  repressed  cry  bi'oke  from  tlie  lips  of  Orrie ; 

and  the  young  man  lowered  his  weapon,  and  looked  at 
her  in  wonder. 

Again  the  knock  was  repeated,  louder  fuid  longer 
than  before,  until  the  iiouse  echoed  and  reverberated 
with  the  thundering  noise. 

The  stranger  bent  his  head,  and  listened  intently ; 
aud,  with  hearing  sharpened  by  excitement,  heard  the 


44 


/1/Y    ESCAPE. 


ii' 


li    I 


sound  of  retreating  feet  below  ;  aud  tlien,  for  an  instant 
or  two,  all  was  perfectly  still. 

But  only  for  an  instant ;  then  the  belated  wayfarer 
■without,  whoever  it  miii^ht  be,  evidently  determined  to 
be  heard  if  tlie  door  lield  out,  raised  another  uproarious 
knock,  nccompimied  by  a  shout  that  could  be  even 
heard  in  that  upper  room,  of 

"  llall(j !  within  there  !  Open  the  door — will  you  ? — 
and  don't  keep  a  fellow  here  in  the  sto:-m  all  nii:;ht !'' 

^  "Oh,_it's  Frank  Do  Vere— it's  Frank  De^^ere!" 
said  Orrie,  sprini^inu^  forward  with  a  joyful  cry. 
"  That's  him,  1  know.  Noinxly  else  ever  makes  such  a 
noise  as  he  does.  Oli,  you're  all  safe  novr — just  as  safe 
as  can  be!  They  won't  touch  you  while  Frank  De 
Yere  ;'tays!" 

"  ^■v"ell,  it's  pleasant  to  know  even  that.  But  who  is 
Frank  iJe  Vere  l  Kut  one  of  the  De  Yercs  of  Fon- 
tellcr'^ 

"  Yes;  he  comes  from  Fontelle — a  beautiful  place. 
Oh,  V\\\  so  glad  !"  exclaimed  Orrle. 

"  Upon  my  life,  1  have  bad  a  night  of  it!"  said  the 
young  man,  ilingii'g  himself  into  a  chair,  and  pushing 
back  carelessly  his  fair  l)rown  hair.  "  First  horse- 
whipping  an  insolent  Yankee,  and  encountering  a  real 
fairy  prince  for  beauty;  and  then  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  Philistines;  and  lirst  meeting  a  witch,  and  then 
this  little  kelpie;  and,  when  about  to  be  assassinated 
in  cold  blooU,  Mr.  Fraidc  De  Yere  thinks  proper  to 
come  along  at  the  eleventh  hour  and  save  my  life. 
'Pon  my  hcuior,  it's  exactly  like  a  scene  in  a  ])lay,  where 
everyboily  is  saved  in  the  most  unexpected  way.  just 
wluMi  the  knife  is  at  their  throat,  by  everybody  else. 
Well,  luck's  everything — no  mistake  about  it,  as  1  have 
abvmdantly  proved  by  all  my  narrow  'scapes  by  ilood 
and  lield  for  the  last  four-aiul-twenty  years.  What, 
Flibbertigibbet!  olf,  are  you ^     Where  away  now f 

"  I'm  going  down  to  see  Frank,"  said  Oriole.  "  I 
like  him." 

*'  Oh,  you  do — do  you  ?    What  a  beautiful  virtue 


AN    ESCAPE. 


45 


m  instant 

"wayfarer 
uiiied  to 
pi'oariou;, 
be   uveii 


yon 


1 

ii^lit!'' 

I'lil  cry. 
.'s  such  a 
t  as  safe 
uiik  JJe 

fc  wlio  is 
of  Fon- 

1  i^liice. 

said  tlie 
^iiishiiicr 

Jiorsc- 
J^  a  I'cal 
i  hands 
id  th'jn 
sinalcd 
>pcr  to 
ly  life. 

wlierc 
y.  j'nst 
y  else. 
I  liav'o 
'  Hood 
Wliat, 

*    "I 

virtue 


frankness  is,  to  be  snrc,  and  how  nicely  <^irlri  get  over  it, 
once  they  are  emancipated  from  pantalettes.  I  don't 
know  biit  what  it  would  be  right  for  me  to^-o  and  see 
Frank,  too.  Solitude  is  a  very  line  tiling  in  its  way ; 
hut  there  is  such  a  possibility  as  having  too  much  of  a 
o-ood  thing ;  and  this  is  not  exactly  the  place  where  one 
Avould  fancy  their  own  thoughts  for  companions  cither, 
riiiht  over  the  grave  of  a  nmrdered  man.  AVho  knows 
laVt  I  may  discover  in  Frank  a  cousin  of  mine,  too  ? 
Il's  worth  going  to  see  about,  at  all  events.     So  here 


(" 


goes : 

lie  rose,  as  he  spoke,  and  passed  from  the  room — 
Orrie  having  already  gone. 

As  he  descended  the  stairs,  he  heard  somebody 
blustering  in  like  the  god  of  the  wind ;  and  then  a 
cheery,  boyisli  voice  exclaiming,  as  its  owner  stamped 
and  shook  the  rain  off  himself: 

"Blow,  ye  wmds,  and  crack  your  cheeks!  Poor 
Frank's  a-cold  !  I  say.  Mother  Grizzle,  why  didn't  you 
let  me  in  when  I  knocked  first,  and  not  keep  me  here 
in  the  rain  till  I'm  a  sight  to  see,  not  to  hear  of?  AVhat 
with  mud  and  rain,  I'm  a  picture  to  look  at — ain't  I  ? 
Talk  about  drowned  rats  !  If  you  want  to  see  one,  just 
cast  your  eyes  on  me,  my  friends!  Hallo,  little  black- 
eyes  !  llow  d'ye  do  i  No ;  don't  come  near  me !  I'm 
a  living  cataract — worse  than  Undsnc's  uncle,  and  he 
was  a  cross  between  a  num  and  a  river  !  l>ut  I  forgot ; 
you  don't  know  Gernum;  so  it's  not  likely  you  ever 
heard  of  the  gent.  Get  us  something  to  eat.  Grizzle. 
Haven't  had  a  blessed  mouthful  since  early  nujrning,  as 
I'm  a  sinner!  Where's  Kit,  and  Hlaize,  and  Old  Till, 
these  times  ? 


V 


i% 


Tl 


le 


am 


t  h 


lome,"  sau 


d  the 


voice  o 


f   tl 


ic  woman 


Grizzle,  in  surly  tones,  as  she  stillly  moved  through  the 
room.     '' Orrie,  wt  out  of  that,  and  mj  to  bed.     You 


5    r> 


ouirht  to  have  been  there  loiii 


aii'o. 


"  I'd  rather  sit 


7) 


up,    sanl  Urrie,  s 


diarply 


"  Oh,    lot   little   bright-eyes   stay,"  said  the  new- 


46 


AN    ESCAPE. 


1  m- 


m  i 


Hi:         ,( 


1^         . 


)t't 


comer.     "  I  like  to  look  ;it  lier.     Muify  customers  stop- 
pad  here  lately,  (irizzle^" 

"^'o,"  .Slid  (Irizzhs  curtly.  "  WlioVl  stop  lierc 
when  they  could  v:o  on  V 

"  Ah,  that's  true  euouij^h!"  said  the  boy  ;  "it's  not 
the  most  cnchantinijj-lookiiiuf  bower  of  n'j^ose  [  ever  saw, 
and  the  ]iul)lic  <»;enerally  arc  not  likely  to  be  ea])tivated 
by  it.  Ihit  a  scormstayed  traveler  iiiiii;ht  drop  in  now 
and  then — on  :ho  principle  of  half  a  loaf  being  better 
than  no  bread." 

"  How  di'.l  you  come  to  be  caught  in  the  storm  at 
this  hour  of  the  ni!j;ht,  Master  Frank '^"  said  the  woman, 
rattlinir  dishes  on  the  table. 

"  Well,  I'm  on  my  way  home  from  New  York;  and 
as  I  was  in  a  hurry,  I  tliou'j:;ht  the  storm  wouldn't 
amount  to  much,  and  that  I  could  ride  throu«j:;h  it  until 
I  got  to  I'ontelle;  but  I  found  my  mistake  before  long, 
and  would  have  stopped  at  the  j\leruiaid  all  night, only 
1  knew  it  would  be  impossible  to  awake  old  I>ob  Row- 
lie ;  so  I  just  rode  on  till  I  came  here.  And  hero  lam 
— what's  left  of  me,  I  mean  ;  for  I  got  more  than  half- 
washed  away  by  the  r.un !" 

"What  took  y(Ui  to  New  York  now?"  said  the 
woman.  "  There,  sit  up,  and  take  your  supper,  if  you 
want  it." 

"  Oh,  Jack  sent  me,  of  course.  I'm  ordered  about, 
up  there,  as  if  I  wasn't  of  the  slightest  consequence  to 
anybody.  Deuce  take  .Faek,  I  say  !"  (exclaimed  ]\Iastcr 
Frank,  with  his  nioulh  full. 

''  Amen  !"  said  a  voice  that  nuido  the  woman  start, 
and  the  youth  jump  up  from  his  chair. 

And  the  next  moment  the  young  stranger  pushed 
open  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  coolly  walked 
in. 

The  keen,  piercing,  hawk-liko  eye  of  the  woman 
was  bent  upon  him  fv)r  an  instant;  but  his  face  ex- 
pressed nothing  but  its  usual  careless  mnq  froUl  as  he 
met  her  gaze,  and  then  glanced,  with  easy  indiiference, 


i. 


AN    ESCAPE. 


47 


lers  stop- 
top  Jicro 

"  it's  not 
3V(.'i'  saw, 
il)tivate(l 
;>  ill  ]i()w 
li,^  better 

storm  at 
woman, 

)r]v ;  and 
von  kin 't 
it  until 
'I'e  loni^, 
lit,  only 
>I)  Row- 
ro  I  am 
HI  iialf' 

uM  the 
if  you 

a  I  tout, 
Mice  to 
i\  faster 

1  start, 

)nslie(l 
valkecl 

romau 
ee  ex- 
'  as  lie 
reuce. 


at  Master  Frank — a  brii^^lit-cyed,  fair-baired,  frcsli-faced 
lad  of  f-ixteen  or  eiicbiocn. 

"  Tlio  noise  at  llio  door  ai'oused  me,"  lie  said,  as  if 
in  (•xj)hination,  "and  not  feelin-^  like  sleeping":,  and  my 
tire  baviii^  c;one  out,  I  thought  I  would  come  down 
here.     I  hope  I  have  not  startled  you." 

"  Startled  me  !"  said  the  y(juth,  slowly  returninii'  to 
bis  former  oeeupation,  "  you've  scared  me  out  of  a 
year's  growth — shattered  my  nervous  system  all  to 
smash  !" 

"  Very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  the  stranger,  in  Iiis 
careless  way  ;  *'  but  your  prayer  for  Jack,  whoever  ho 
may  be,  seemed  so  heiu'tfelt  that,  as  a  pious  Christian — 
wlii<'h  1  Hatter  myself  1  am — 1  could  not  help  respond- 
ing to  it.  1  think  1  heard  you  mention  Fontelle  as 
I  came  down  stairs.     Do  you  know  the  family  there  i" 

"  Well,  I  should  think  I  did— rather!"  said  Frank, 
with  emphasis  ;  "  more  especially  as  I  generally  pitch 
my  tent  there  myself  when  Fm  at  home." 

"  What,  are  you  a  De  Vere  ';" 

"Well,  Fm  connnonly  called  that,  for  want  of  a 
better  name,  1  suppose.  But,  what  do  you  know  about 
the  De  Veres!!"  continued  Master  Frank. 

"  Well,  I  believe  I  claim  kindred  with  the  family," 
said  the  careless  stranger.  "  My  name  is  Disbrowe,  tho 
Honorable  AHVcmI  Disbrowe,  more  connnonly  known 
as  Captahi  Disbrowe,  of  ILis  Most  Gracious  Majesty's 
Horse  Guards." 

"lley!"  said  Master  Frank,  dropping  his  knife  and 
fork,  and  starting  at  tho  young  and  handsome  guards- 
man, "it  ain't  ])ossib]e,  is  it^" 

The  stranger  smiled,  and  l)owed  slightly. 

"And  you're  the  Honorable  Alfred  Disbrow^c, 
brother  of  Lord  Farneclilfe  f '  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"  And  nei)hew  of  Robert  De  Vere,  Es(].,  of  Fon- 
telle.    Yes,  1  have  that  honor,"  said  the  stranger. 

lip  sj)rang  Frank  from  his  seat;  and  darting  over, 
he  caught  the  young  Englishman's  hand  and  shook  it 
heartily,  saying,  with  a  delighted  shout : 


48 


AN   ESCAPE. 


I  i ; 


"  Hooray  !  if  tliis  ain't  an  uncommon  streak  of  good 
luck,  my  name's  not  Frank  !  Good  gracious,  just  to 
think  of  it !  Why,  it's  the  most  unexpected  and 
knock-down  rencontre  that  ever  anybody  heard  of  since 
they  were  born !''  said  Frank,  shaking  the  Honorable 
Alfred's  hand  as  if  it  had  been  a  pump-handle,  in  liia 
surprise  and  delight. 


!  I  ! 


I'li 


It 


iff 


if 


II 


11 


>'" 


c  of  good 
s,  just  to 
ted  and 
1  of  since 
onorable 
le,  in  Ilia 


'il 


$ 


FONTELLE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


40 


FONTELLE. 


"  It  was  a  sandy  level  wherein  stood 

This  old  and  lonesome  house.     Far  as  the  eye 
Could  measure,  on  the  green  back  of  the  wood 
The  smoke  lay  always  low  and  lazily. 

**  But  from  the  rock,  rough-grained  and  icy-crowned, 
Some  little  flowers  from  out  some  cleft  will  rise, 
And  in  tliis  quiet  land  my  love  I  found, 

With  all  their  soft;  light  sleeping  in  her  eyes." 

Alice  Gary. 


HE  young  Englishman  glanced  toward  his 
slightly  uncourteous  hostess,  to  see  what 
elfect  this  announcement  liad  on  her :  and 


saw 
tire, 


her  statiding  looking  steadily  into  the 
with     the     stranu'est    expression    of 


strangest  expression 
mingled  triiunph,  delight,  and  exultation,  added  to  an- 
other inexplicable  look — as  if  a  demoniacal  prospect  of 
some  sort  had  suddenly  been  opened  before  her.  Her 
evil  face  had  so  strange  a  fascination  for  him  at  that 
moment,  that,  unheeding  Frank  De  Vere's  boisterous 
greeting,  he  kept  his  ey«3s  on  her,  and  asked : 

"  What  picture  do  you  see  in  the  lire,  my  worthy 
liostess,  that  seems  so  strongly  to  rivet  your  attention? 

She  looked  up,  and  met  his  gaze  with  a  dark  and 
most  sinister  smile. 

''  One  that  you  will  see,  I  hope — I  helleve^  some  day, 
in  real  life,  young  sir,"  she  replied,  transtixing  him  with 
her  basilisk  eyes. 

"•  Indeed  !  and  what  may  it  be,  pray  f 

"I  saw,"  said  the  wo!nan,  pointing  to  the  glowing 
coals,  "  a  pit  there  so  black,  so  bottomless,  that,  if  it 
8 


50 


FONTELLE. 


i!    n 


f>*  m 


opened  visibly  before  you  now,  you  would  shrink  and 
recoil  from  it  in  lioi-ror." 

"Pos.sil)lo !"' said  tlic  young  mun,  in  his  careless 
tone.  "Well,  and  what  of  it'^  Did  you  sec  nothing 
else  r 

"  You — you  were  at  the  1)ottoin  of  it !" 

"  Oh,  was  I  ?  And  you  hope  that  it  may  come 
true,  some  daj' — do  you  ?  Of  course,  I  am  mightily 
obliged  to  you  ;  but  at  the  same  time,  I'd  rather  be 
excused." 

"  IJut  you  were  not  alone,"  persisted  the  woman,  as 
if  he  had  not  spoken. 

"  Indeed  ?  Well,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  even  that. 
Who  had  the  atrocious  taste  to  accompany  me  there, 
my  dear  madam  V 

"I  saw,"  said  the  old  woman,  folding  her  arms,  and 
looking  full  in  his  careless,  handsome  face  with  her 
sinister  smile,  "  I  saw  some  one  falling  down,  and 
down,  and  down  into  that  dark  and  loathsome  gulf;  and 
lie,  fallen  and  degraded  in  their  scornful  pride,  in  the 
very  slime  at  your  feet,  spurned  alike  by  God  and  man, 
and  that  one  was  — " 

"  Well  V  said  the  young  man,  startled  a  little  from 
his  nonchalant  manner  by  the  suppressed  passion  that 
throbbed  like  a  risin^•  tide  in  her  luce  and  voice. 

"  Jack  De  Vere  P''  she  said,  i-ai>ing  her  voice  almost 
to  a  shriek,  as  with  a  last  malignant  glance  she  turned 
to  leave  the  room. 

"  Don't  mind  her.  Captain  Disbrowe  !"  exclaimed 
Frank,  indignantly;  "she's  crazy  one-half  her  time, 
and  not  very  sensible  the  rest.  Nobody  minds  what 
old  Grizzle  Ilowlet  says." 

"  Who  is  this  J  ack  De  Vere,  on  whose  destiny 
I  am  to  have  so  dismal  an  elfect  C^  incpiired  the  soldier, 
resuming  his  indifferent  manner. 

"  Oh,  a  cousin  of  ours,  of  course  ;  one  of  the  De 
Veres  of  Fontelle." 

"  Is  he  at  Fontelle  now  ?" 

Frank   nodded   and    laughed,  and   the   laugh  was 


4 


m  1 


I 


FONTELLE. 


61 


that. 


man, 


slirilly  eclioed  l\y  tlic  elfish  sprite,  Orrie,  who  still 
crouc'lied  in  the  chiiiinev  corner. 

"Then  I  .<hall  see  him  to-morrow?" 

"Yes;  yon-ll  see  liim  to-morrow,"  said  Frank,  still 
laiiidiinii!:,  and  soeming-ly  immensely  tickled  by  some  in- 
ward feeling. 

"What  are  yon  langhing  at?"  said  Captain  Dis- 
browe,  with  a  pnzzled  look. 

Frank  oj)ened  his  month  to  protest  he  never  was 
more  serions  in  his  life,  but  in  the  elTort  another  roar 
escaped  him. 

"  Well,  this  is  rather  droll,"  said  the  young  English- 
man, "lanij:;hing  over  such  a  solemn  matter  as  the 
extinguishing  of  Mr.  Jack  De  Vere  and  Captain  Alfred 
Disbrowe,  when — " 

"  Orrie !"  called  the  harsh  voice  of  j\Lother  Grizzle, 
at  this  moment,  "  get  up  and  go  to  bed." 

"I  don't  feel  sleepy,  and  don't  want  to  go,"  said 
Orrie,  settling  herself  closer  into  the  corner. 

With  the  ringing  tread  of  a  dragoon,  the  old  woman 
marched  in  and  a})j)roached  her;  but  seeing  her  in- 
tention, Miss  Oriole  thought  discretion  the  better  part 
of  valor,  and,  springing  u]),  darted  away,  and  was  up 
the  stairs  in  a  twinkiinii;. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  if  you  two  mean  to  go  to 
bed  to-night  ?"  said  the  woman,  sna])pishly.  "  1  can't 
sit  up  here  till  morning  waiting  till  you  get  done 
talking." 

"Well,  go  to  bed,  then,"  said  Frank.  "Nobody 
asked  you  to  sit  up." 

Merely  regarding  Frank  with  a  contemptuous 
glance,  the  woman  turned  sternly  to  Captain  Dis- 
browe : 

"Are  you  going  to  your  room,  sir,  or  are  you  going 
to  stay  here  ?" 

"  That's  a  question  I  can't  take  it  upon  myself  to 
answer  on  so  short  a  notice,  madam,"  said  the  young 
man,  running  his  lingers  through  his  glossy  dark  locks; 
"but  don't   put   yourself  out   on   my  account,  I  beg. 


1 1/ 


"      I 


1)     't 


i  ,  •  '^ti 


Iv- 


II 


UKi 


,1 


:l 
i     !.■'     '1' 


■    it 
I' 


I  • 


62 


FON  TELLE. 


Allow  me  to  insinuate  that  you  had  better  retire  to 
rest  yuurself,  as  it  is  coiisiderublj  late,  and  time  all 
honest  folks  were  in  he'l." 

"  Oh,  well,  she  needn't  hurry  for  that,  as  it  don't 
apply  to  her  ease  in  the  least,"  said  Frank,  ili|)j)antly. 

A  darker  scowl  even  than  usual  settled  on  the 
loweriiiuj  brow  of  old  (xrizzle  ;  but  without  a  word,  she 
walked  silenMy  and  sulkily  from  the  room. 

"  She's  a  ])leasant  hostess,  she  is,"  remarked  Fraidc, 
looking  after  her,  '"and  the  sort  of  a  woman  a  man  would 
like  to  marry,  I  dont  think.  J  ho])e  you  won't  judge 
all  our  American  ladies  by  the  two  s])ecimens  you  hiive 
just  seen.  We  have  some  tol'jrable  good-looking 
females  among  them,  as  I  will  show  you  when  we 
reach  Fontelle." 

"  That  child,  Orric,  might  grow  up  a  handsome 
girl,  yet,"  said  Captain  Disbrowe, 

"  She  mvjld.  The  moon  might  be  made  of  greeu 
cheese,  for  all  we  know." 

"  She  has  handsome  eyes." 

"  Yes  ;  so  has  a  toad." 

"  Come,  now,  my  cynical  young  friend,"  said  the 
young  Englishman,  laughing,  "if  she  were  pro[)erly 
cared  for,  she  might  grow  u])  a  fine-lookiug  girl." 

"If — if  1"  said  Frank,  contemptuously.  "If  the 
sky  falls  we  may  catch  larks.  She'll  have  to  be  born 
again  before  you  can  made  anything  of  that  little  tawny 
kelpie,  but  a  weird,  witch-like,  old-fashioned  little 
goblin.  1  believe  in  my  soul  there  is  something  un- 
canny about  that  same  little  hornet ;  and  I  never  see 
her  black  eyes  shining  on  me  in  the  dark,  without  feel- 
ing inclined  to  take  to  my  heels  and  run  as  if  Old 
Nick  was  after  me." 

"  AVhat  is  she  to  that  pleasant-spoken  old  lady,  our 
hostess?     Her  ij^randchild  V 

"Her  grandchild  I  No;  old  Grizzle  only  has  two 
sons — Kit  and  l>laize — a  prc^ji'^us  pair  of  hang-dog 
scoundrels,  both  of  'em!  and  neither  of  them  are  mar- 
ried nor  likely  to  be.     I  don't   know  what  Orrie  is  to 


FONTELLF. 


53 


retire  to 
time  all 

it  don't 
lantly. 
on    the 
urd,  she 

Frank, 
iMvonld 
t  jiidii^e 
oil  h;ive 
lookiiii^ 
hen  we 

ndsome 


f  green 


<a 


I 


lid  the 

roperly 

If   the 
e  born 

tawny 
1    little 

ni>-  un- 

ver  see 
it  feel- 
if   Old 

1                  ^'" 
ly,  our 

as  two 

iig-dog 

e  mar-            i 

ie  is  to            1 

her;  but  she  harf  always  lived  with  old  Mother  Ghast- 
ly as  loiiij;  as  1  can  remember,  and  always  was  the  s;inie 
queer  little  wasp  she  is  to  this  day.  1  L'X])eer  slie  tuiind 
lier  under  a  toad-stool,  or  riding  on  a  rush-blade  over 
from  Scotland,  or  dancing  in  a  fairy  ring  some  bright 
Hallow  Eve  night,  and  ca})tured  her." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder.  I  she  Id  like  to  know  some- 
thing more  of  her,  though." 

"  Why,  you  haven't  fallen  in  lov^  with  her,  have 
you  ?"  said  Frank. 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Captain  Disbrowe,  with  a 
slight  laugh.  "  I  feel  an  interest  in  the  child,  though, 
on  account  of  a  little  service  she  did  me  this  evening, 
and  because  I  think  something  might  be  made  of  her, 
yet.  AVell,  let  her  go.  And  now,  about  Fontelle.  I 
suppose  they  received  Earneclitfe's  letter  V 

"Saying  you  were  coming  to  pay  us  a  visit — yes," 
said  the  boy.  "  1  heard  Jack  and  Gus  talking  about 
it,  and  wondering  what  sort  of  an  individual  you  would 
turn  out  to  be." 

"  Gus !" 

"  Why,  yes — .  Oh,  I  forgot  you  didn't  know.  I 
mean  cousin  Augusta — Lady  Augusta  De  Yere,  if  you 
please." 

"  Lady  Augusta  ?  I  thought  you  had  no  titles 
over  here." 

"  Haven't  we  ?  That's  all  you  know  about  it,  then. 
Why,  every  second  man  you  meet  is  a  colonel,  and  a 
general,  and  a  squire,  and  lots  of  other  things.  Uncle 
liob's  a  squire — Squire  De  Vere,  you  know.  But  they 
used  to  call  her  Lady  Augusta  when  she  was  a  little 
girl — she  was  such  a  proud,  haughty  little  duchess  ;  and 
so  the  name's  stuck  to  her  ever  since." 

"  She  wouldn't  be  a  De  Vere  if  she  was  not  proud," 
said  Disbrowe,  quietly. 

"  Oh,  wonhln't  slie !  AVell,  they  call  me  a  De 
Vere,  and  anybody  that  says  Fm  j)roud — why,  I  say 
they're  mistaken,  to  draw  it  mild.     To  be  sure,  it's  not 


I' 


1i  fc 


I 


li  (? 


;i 


II      li 

ill 


HI     {I 


64 


FONTELLE. 


my  name;  but  tliat's  neither  here,  nor  there,  nor  any- 
where else,  lor  that  matter.'' 

"Not  your  name  i"  said  Disbrowe,  with  a  stare. 

"  No,  sir  !"  said  Master  Fnink,  emphatically.  "  My 
name's  Stiibbs — but  tell  it  not  in  Gatli.  You  see,  the 
way  of  it  was,  my  mother  and  S([uire  I)e  Vei'e's  wife 
were  sisters;  and  when  father  and  mother  died,  and  I 
went  to  live  at  Funtelle,  everybody  took  to  calling 
me  De  Vere.  I  was  a  little  shav<M',  then;  and  the 
name's  stuck  to  me  ever  since,  until,  sometimes,  1  don't 
feel  fjuite  sure  but  what  I  afii  a  De  Vere,  afler  all.  It's 
an  awi'ul  falling  olf  to  come  d(nvn  from  that  pinnacle 
of  high-and-mightydom  to  plain,  unroniantie,  unvar- 
nished Stubbs ;  but  it's  the  hard,  substantial  truth,  and 
there's  no  dodging  it." 

Captain  Disbrowe  stroked  his  nmstache,  and 
laughed  at  I'raidi's  rueful  face. 

"  '  Wlutt's  in  a  name '^'  as  Juliet  says.  'A  rose,' 
you  know,  '  by  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.'  " 

"1  don't  believe  it.  (Jail  it  a  cabbage,  for  instance, 
and  how  would  it  sound  '.  Jf  you  read  in  a  novel,  now, 
that  a  chap  ])r(!sented  his  ladydove  with  a  caljbage,  as 
an  end)lem  of  his  atfeetion,  what  would  you  say  ? 
AVhy,  that  he  was  a  cabbage-head  himself.  Juliet  be 
hanged!"  said  Frank,  in  ii  tone  of  disgust.  "She  was 
in  love,  and  couldn't  be  expected  to  be  in  her  ])r()])er 
senses.  There's  a  great  deal  in  a  name,  lier  lover 
was  llomeo  Montague.  It'  he  liad  been  Komeo  Stubbs, 
I  wonder  how  she  would  have  liked  it  i" 

"  Well,  as  1  never  had  the  honor  of  the  young  lady's 
ac(piaintaii(-,L',  I  <*anuot  take  it  upon  mysclt"  to  answer 
that  question.  Aiid  so  Lady  Augusta,  ami  Uncle  Uob, 
and    Cousin    Jack,  constitule   the   family  at    Fontello 

iiaiir; 

"  Yes,"  said  Fraidc,  slowly,  and  looking  in  the  lire ; 
"  they  do,  rather,  when  I'm  not  there  ;  and  I'ju  a  host  iu 
myself.  I  hope  you  intend  making  us  a  long  visit, 
Captain  Disbrowe." 


■m 


FONTELLE, 


66 


■'J 


"Perhaps — if  you  don't  tire  of  me  and  turn  mo 
out." 

"  I'll  risk  that !  Jack  will  like  jou,  I  know,  and 
Jack's  word  is  law  at  Fontelle.  By-the-way,  though, 
Couoin  Alfred — I  suppose  I  may  call  you  that — wliat 
first  put  it  into  your  head  to  honor  us  with  a  visit,  any- 
way ?" 

"  'Pon  my  honor,  that's  a  puzzle,  my  young  friend. 
I  don't  even  know  how  I  ever  discovered  there  was 
sucli  a  place  as  America  in  existence.  Oh,  come  to 
think  of  it,  Ned  Howard,  of  the  Guards,  told  me.  lie 
did  a  little  lighting  hero,  once  upon  a  time  ;  and  as  I 
got  tired  of  lounging  about  the  Serpentine,  jmd  making 
lovo  to  Lady  Janes  and  Lady  Mary;^,  I  thought  I  would 
try  the  Hudson  by  way  of  a  change.  And  so  Larne- 
cliifc  informed  me  I  had  a  half-uncle,  or  something, 
here,  and  wrote  to  him  to  let  him  know  wliat  a  nice 
youth  I  was,  and  to  warn  him  to  treat  me  tenderly ; 
and  I  obtained  unlimited  leave  of  absence,  and  came, 
and  saw,  and — no— yes,  I  did,  though ! — I  con(piered 
an  insolent  fellow  I  met  at  tlio  Mermaid  Inn." 

"How  was  that  ?     Who  was  he  P 

"Not  acquainted  with  the  gentleman.  He  was  a 
short,  stout,  red-haired,  red  whiskered  individual,  with 
an  unpleasant,  not  to  say  ferocious,  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, and  an  air  generally  that  looked  like  a  cross 
between  a  sailor  and  a  hanguian." 

"Why,  it  must  have  been  Old  Ni(-k.  Oh,  land  of 
hope  and  blessed  promise*!  if  it  was  him,  you  had  bet- 
ter look  out  for  sipialls.'' 

"All!  He  was  ugly  enough  to  be  old  Nick,  or 
anything  else  you  like  ;  but  i  wasn't  aware  his  ISatanic 
Majesty  took  visible  shape  and  sported  a  tarpaulin  hat 
here  in  these  United  States." 

"  Oh,  I  mean  old  Nick  Tempest.  What  did  you  do 
to  liini  f" 

"(rave  him  a  cut  of  my  horsewhip  in  the  face,  by 
way  of  a  slight  hint  to  be  m<jre  ])olite  to  etrangerd  in 
future." 


I     I 


1 


I! 


!:i 


Si 


66 


FONTELLE. 


"Whew!"  said  Frank,  tliriistint;  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  indulging  in  ak)ng,  waihiig  whistle.  ''  Well, 
then,  let  me  tell  yon,  you  have  made  an  inveterate  aiicl 
deadly  enemy  for  life.  That  fellow's  worse  than  a  Cor- 
sican — he  never  forgives  an  injury." 

"Well,  there's  nut  nuieh  love  lost,  that's  one  com- 
fort.    Who  is  he,  anyway  ^" 

"  Oh,  the  captain  of  a  schooner,  and,  they  say,  a 
buccaneer,"  said  the  boy,  lowering  his  voice.  "  lie 
has  been  seen  cruising  round  the  coast,  and  it  is  moi'c 
than  suspected  that  his  deeds  are  evil.  But  it  won't  do 
to  speak  of  that  subject  here." 

"And  why  not  ^" 

"  Oh,  well,  he's  thick  with  old  Grizzle,  and  hand-and- 
glove  with  her  two  precious  sons.  '  Birds  of  a  feather,' 
you  know,  and  so  on.   A  sweet  set,  the  whole  of  'em  !" 

•'  I  wonder  the  authorities  don't  look  after  him." 

"  The  authorities !"  said  Frank,  contemptuouv.ly. 
"  With  his  fast-sailing  clipper,  he  can,  snap  his  lingers 
in  the  faces  of  every  mother's  son  of  them,  and  lie's 
wide-awake,  I  tell  you.  Catch  a  weasel  asleep,  indeed  ! 
But  I  feel  sleepy,  and  will  seek  a  little  virtuous  repose 
in  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  JSot  in  the  least,  and  I'll  copy  the  example  of  the 
'  wise  virgins '  in  the  parable,  and  watch." 

"Why  don't  you  take  a  snooze  yourself?"  said 
Frank,  settling  himself  in  his  chair,  thrustitig  both 
hands  in  his  coat  pockets,  and  putting  on  a  resolute  ex- 
pression that  bespoke  his  unliinching  determinutiou  to 
go  to  sleep,  in  spite  of  all  obstacles. 

"  For  good  reasons,  that  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow, 
which,  if  1  (l(»n't  mit^fake,  is  already  growing  gray  in 
the  cast.  Ashn^p  so  soon^'  said  the  young  man,  glanc- 
ing at  Frank,  who  had  droj)ped  olf  almost  instantly. 
"  1  wonder  if  he  knew  as  much  as  T  do  about  this  house, 
whether  W,  would  sleep  so  easily  'i  Where  has  the  old 
Jezebel  spirited  oil  the  men  to,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

Drawing  closer  to  the  lire,  Ca])tain  Disbrowo  set 
himself  to  watch  until  morning  ;  but,  insensibly  over- 


F ON  TELLE. 


57 


come  by  drowsiness  and  fatigue,  he  dropped  fast  asleep 
in  ten  minutes,  and  slept  suundly — so  soundly  tliat  lie 
did  not,  two  hou^s  later,  hear  the  door  opened,  nor  the 
noiseless  entrance  of  old  Grizzle  Ilowlut.  Softlv  she 
crossed  the  room  on  tip-toe,  and  bent  over  him,  and 

f:;azed  intently  as  he  lay  with  his  head  resting  easily  on 
lis  arm,  and  his  handsome  face  plainly  re\'eakd  in  tluj 
gray  morning  light.  Lightly  she  lifted  the  clustering 
waves  of  his  bright  l)rown  hair  from  his  foreheid,  and 
peered  closer  and  closer  in  his  face — the  old  .sinister 
smile  gradually  breaking  over  her  lips.  Did  she  read  in 
that  fine  and  aristocratic-looking  countenance  a  tahj  of 
haughty  pride,  but  slightly  vailed  under  the  careless 
levity  of  his  waking  manner  I — a  tale  of  dauntless  dar- 
ing and  high  ambition,  that  would  spurn  every  obstacle 
as  so  many  worms  in  his  path,  until  the  goal  of  his 
hopes  were  won  i  Something  of  that  slie  must  have 
read,  if  she  were  skilled  in  reading  tlie  "  human  face 
divine  " — for  all  were  legible  in  that  handsome  face  in 
its  repose. 

Suddenly  he  moved,  restlessly,  and  murmured  some- 
thing in  his  sleep.  The  woman  l)ent  down  to  hear,  but 
she  could  only  catch  the  words :  "  When  I  come  back, 
Norma." 

"  When  yon  come  back,  Norma !"  said  Grizzle,  I'ising, 
with  her  evil  smile,  and  looking  down  upon  the  sleeper. 
"  Will  you  ever  come  back  to  Norma — whoever  she 
maybe?  O  Jack  De  Vere  !  God  grant  the  day  may 
soon  come  when  I  can  see  your  high  pride  laid  low,  and 
your  haughty  head  under  the  lieel  of  this  gay,  i)roud 
Englishman,  with  his  fair  young  face,  and  scornful 
heart! — and  may  Heaven  send  the  day  soon  when  1  can 
repay  you  a  thousand-fold  for  all  your  taunts,  and  jibes, 
and  mockery !" 

She  struck  her  clenched  hand  on  her  breast,  as  if 
she  could  have  beaten  down  a  lion,  and  her  face  wji^ 
livid  with  the  raging  passion  throbbing  in  it,  yet  forci- 
bly held  back. 

*'  Ilallo  I  old  Mother  Hubbard  I — what  are  you  up 

8* 


y; 


'l 

I*  IS' 

t 


w  y 


• 


i 


1 

iflf 

"01  1 

li 

1 

Ij 

68 


FONTELLE. 


to  now?"  Sc-iid  tlic  voico  of  Fraiik,  as  lie  got  up,  sudden- 
ly, with  Jl  yawn,  and  shook  himself.  "  llurry  np 
breakfast — will  you?  I  shall  have  to  nial^e  tracks  for 
FontcUe  in  douhle-quiek-tiine  tliis  morning,  or  Jack 
will  be  in  my  wool.  Let's  have  a  look  at  the  weather," 
said  he,  going  to  the  window  and  looking  out,  while  old 
Grizzle  silently  busied  herself  in  kindling  the  lire. 

''  Well,  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  weather,  my 
good  cousin?"  said  C'aptain  Disbrowe,  awakened  by  his 
voice.  "  Is  it  snow,  rain,  hail,  or  lightning,  or  a  mixture 
of  all  ?" 

"  None  of  'em,"  said  Frank  ;  "  going  to  bo  a  splen- 
did day,  after  the  storm.  The  weather  here  in  New 
Jersey,  you  see,"  continued  Frank,  with  a  touch  of 
philosophy,  "  is  uncommonly  like  the  female  sex  ;  most- 
ly always  contrary,  and  doing  what  nobody  ex])ects  it 
to — all  smiles  one  minute,  and  all  sulks  the  next.  That's 
the  way  with  you  lovely  women,  ain't  it.  Grizzle?"  said 
Master  Frank,  winking  at  Disbrowe,  to  intimate  that  the 
latter  part  of  his  speech  might  be  considered  playfully 
ironical. 

Grizzle  favored  him  with  a  glance  of  withering  cou- 
tem[)t,  and  went  steadily  and  silently  on,  preparing 
breakfast,  which  was  soon  ready,  and  sooner  diT^patched. 
Then  little  Orrie  brought  round  their  horses,  while  the 
young  Englishman  settled  his  bill  with  the  hostess. 

'"And  now,  madam,"  he  said,il\ing  his  eyes  keeidy 
and  significantly  on  her  face,  '"  before  1  bid  you  good- 
morning,  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  your  and  your 
three  friends'  kind  intentions  toward  me  last  night;  and 
to  advise  3'ou,  when  you  next  hold  a  secret  conference 
round  the  lire,  to  he  sure  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  is  shut.  Good-morning,  madam."  And  with  a 
slight  and  peculiarly-gi-aceful  how  and  smile,  he  passed 
from  the  house.  Not  a  muscle  of  the  woman  s  face 
moved,  not  the  slightest  start  or  sign  of  guilt  did  she 
betray,  but  with  a  nnittered  "  Humph  !"  she  folded  her 
arms  and  looked  after  them  until  they  were  out  of 
bight. 


FONTELLE. 


69 


""What  did  you  mean  by  tliatf  said  Frank,  as  they 
rode  ra]:)id]y  alon,i^. 

"  Never  mind,  now,"  said  Disbrowe,  "  I  shall  tell 
you  all  about  it  some  other  time,  for  talking  at  this 
sharp  pace  I  don't  admire." 

A  ra])id  ride  of  nearly  five  hours,  through  forest- 
paths  and  nmddy  roads — considerably  different  from 
Avhat  the  same  route  is  to-day — brought  them,  at  last, 
to  their  journey's  end. 

"AVhy  didn't  you  take  the  shorter  way  over  the 
mountains?"  Disbrowe  asked. 

"Oh,  well,  for  various  reasons:  the  first  and  chief 
of  which  is,  that  I  woukl  rather  not  break  my  neck  just 
yet,  if  tiie  public  generally  don't  object.  Mountain 
gorges,  and  chasms,  and  torrents,  and  steep,  slippery 
paths,  where  a  single  false  step  would  pitch  you  to 
Kingdom  Come  in  a  twiidvling,  are  all  very  pleasant  to 
read  about,  but  in  real  life  I'd  just  as  soon  steer  clear  of 
them.  Jack  always  takes  the  moutitains,  but  I  haven't 
enough  of  the  dare-devil  in  mo  to  try  it,  I  must  con- 
fess ;  and,  what's  more,  I  ain't  at  all  ambitious  to  have, 
either." 

"  This  Jack  appears  to  be  quite  a  hero,  in  his  way, 
and  T  feel  quite  anxious  to  know  him,"  said  Disbrowe. 

Again   Frank  laughed — a  ])eculiar,  meaning  laugh. 

"  t)h,  I  rather  guess  you  and  Jack  will  pull  pretty 
well  tog(!ther,  if  you  are  only  moderately  careful  and 
mind  your  eye !  But  there's  Fontelle,  is  it  anything 
like  your  English  home?" 

Disbrowe  looked,  and  saw  a  large,  irregnkir,  cum- 
brous-looking old  mansion  of  gray  stone,  that  seemed  to 
have  been  build  at  different  periods,  with  two  wings — 
the  one  at  the  north  heavy  and  gloomy,  and  fashioned 
after  some  anti<jue  style;  while  the  southern  one  seemed 
of  more  mod(M'n  date  and  construction,  lighter,  airier, 
and  more  elegant.  Extensive  and  handsome  grounds 
srrrounded  it,  and  a  long,  winding  avenue  of  tall  maples 
led  up  to  the  front  door.     It  was  a  lino  old  mansion, 


•f 


■>"! 


S 


I.. 


w 


if 

sr 

I 


p: 


I 


i 

\ 
1 

ii 

i 

II 

1 

60 


FONTELLE. 


strongly  resembling  the  old  manors  so  common  in  Eng- 
land. 

"  As  he  named  it  after  Fontelle  Park,  in  England," 
said  Frank,  "  he  had  it  built,  you  see,  to  resemble  it  as 
much  as  possible.  Does  it  really  look  like  the  old  Eng- 
lish house  of  the  De  Veres  ?" 

"  Very  much,"  said  Captain  Disbrowe,  in  evident 
pleasure ;  "  very  much,  indeed.  It  only  wants  the 
broad  lawns,  and  glades,  and  the  great  park,  and  the 
deer,  and  the  '  silver  star '  above  the  gate,  and  the  gate- 
keeper's lodge.  Do  you  know  the  '  silver  star,'  Master 
Frank  ?" 

"  Don't  I  ?"  said  Frank.  "  Is  there  a  day  of  my  life 
I  don't  hear  of  the  '  silver  star '  of  the  De  Veres  ? 
Hasn't  imcle  Rob  the  family  arms  emblazoned  in  the 
drawing-room  ? — and  doesn't  the  '  silver  star '  shine  there 
from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and  never  set  ?  But 
look  here !  if  that  ain't  the  very  Jack  you  want  to  see ! 
Jack  !  Jack !  I  say !"  he  called,  raising  his  voice. 

He  galloped  on,  followed  by  Disbrowe,  until,  sud- 
denly reining  up,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  full  of  quiet 
malice  and  delight : 

"Jack,  this  is  our  English  cousin.  Captain  Dis- 
browe, allowed  me  to  make  you  acquainted  with  Jack 
De  Vere." 

Captain  Disbrowe  looked  up,  and  sat  for  a  moment 
stock-still  with  surprise.  Well  he  might !  he  was  not 
the  first  who  had  been  electrified  by  Jack  De  Vere  I 


JACK    DE     YE  RE. 


61 


CHAPTER  V. 


JACK  DE  VERB. 


"  A  thing  all  lightness.  'Ife,  and  glee — 

One  of  the  &liaj.'es  we  seem 
To  see  in  visions  of  the  night, 
And  shouU  they  greet  our  waking  sight 

Imagine  that  wc  dream." — Hill. 

APT  A  IN  ALFRED  DISBROWE  had  raised 
his  handsome  eyes,  expecting  to  see  a  tall, 
dashing,  whiskered,  devil-may-care  six- 
footer;  but  looking  up  he  saw  nothing, 
until  he  lowered  his  eyes,  and  lowered  them 
again,  and  at  last  they  alighted  on  a  coquettish  little 
riding-hat,  perched  jauntily  on  one  side  of  a  little  head, 
some  four  feet  or  so  from  the  ground. 

Captain  Disbrowe  started  and  stared ;  and  his  stare 
was  returned  by  the  brightest  and  clearest  pair  of  eyes 
that  ever  were  set  in  a  human  head — returned  with  com- 
pound interest,  too.  Jack  De  Yere  was  fl  girl — a  small, 
slight,  delicate-looking  girl,  of  seemingly  not  more  than 
sixteen,  and  most  elegantly  and  becomingly  dressed, 
who,  after  lier  iirst  brief  scrutiny,  bowed  and  smiled, 
and  held  out  her  hand,  and  gracefully  welcomed  her 
English  cousin  to  Fontelle  Hall. 

It  was  seldom  the  self-possessed,  courteous  Captain 
Disbrowe  was  at  a  loss ;  but  for  a  moment  he  was 
really  so  now,  and  as  he  mechanicallv  took  the  hand 
she  offered,  ho  gazed  Iirst  at  her  and  then  at  Frank, 
80  evidently  nonplussed,  that  Frank,  who  happened  to 
be  blessed  with  a  lively  eense  of  the  ludicrous,  laughed 
uproariously. 


I. 


62 


JACK    DE     VERE. 


"  Jack  Dc  Verc,"  lie  repeated,  like  one  in  a  dream. 

Tlie  young  lady  witlidi-ew  her  ]i:ni(l  and  smiled. 

"This  is  some  of  your  work,  Master  Frank,  with 
your  Jaf'k  I)e  Vere  !  My  name  is  Jacquetta,"  said  she, 
turning  to  Disbrowe,  "  whiel)  they  have  the  barI)arous 
taste  to  transform  into  Jaek — thinking,  I  suppose,  a 
boy's  name  suits  me  best.  -Whether  they  are  right  or 
not,  I  must  leave  it  to  time  and  your  good  sense  to  de- 
cide." 

"  Oil !  beg  pardon !  I  see  it  all  now,"  said  Dis- 
brow-e  ;  and  the  next  instant  he  had  sprung  from  his 
horse,  and  stood  with  his  hat  off  before  her ;  "I  fear  I 
have  appeared  rather  rude  ;  but  I  was  so  surprised ! 
Allows  me  to  redeem  my  error,  and  salute  my  fair 
cousin  now." 

And  taking  her  hand  he  would  liave  suited  the 
action  of  the  word  ;  but  Miss  Jack  drew  back,  and 
interposed  the  other  hand  as  a  shield. 

"  i^dm  to  })alm  is  holy  ])almer''s  kiss,"  she  said, 
coolly.  "  And  1,  as  a  stanch  Yankee  girl  and  patriot, 
have  '  vowed  a  vow,'  ever  since  the  war,  of  eternal  en- 
mity against  all  Englishmen.  So,  my  very  dear  cousin, 
you  will  have  to  admire  me  at  a  distance,  until  better 
acquainted." 

"  Then  permit  me."  And  he  raised  her  hand  gal- 
lantly to  his  lips.  "  1  shall  try  to  induce  you  to  break 
that  cruel  vow  before  we  part.  The  sins  of  a  whole 
nation  should  not  be  visited  on  one  iiidivitiual  head." 

Though  he  had  bent  over  the  hand  he  held  whilst 
speaking,  he  luid  l)een  looking  intently  in  her  face,  and 
trying  to  decide,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  whether  she 
were  pretty  or  plain. 

It  w^as  a  (juestion  that  had  puzzled  others  before 
him,  and  countless  were  the  dilferent  decisions  that  had 
been  pronounced  on  the  matter.  Jle  saw  a  small, 
bright,  aniniiited  face,  full  of  energy,  daring,  and  de- 
termination, yet  fair  and  delicate  as  a  tinted  rose-leaf 
in  complexion.  iler  eyes  were  large  and  intensely 
bright  and  of  the  deepest,  darkest  gray,  sparkling  and 


JACK    DE     VERB. 


63 


flasliing  when  she  M'as  excited,  until  they  seemed  of 
nii(hiiii;ht  bliiekness.  ller  round,  wliite,  ]')olished  forc- 
lieud,  iind  small,  erect  head,  were  beautifully  shaped, 
and  bespoke  a  strong,  energetic,  far-seeing  brain  with- 
in. 

Iler  small,  rosy  mouth  would  liave  been  perfect, 
but  for  the  half-mocking,  half-sarcastic  curl  of  the  short 
n]iper  lip,  whose  haughty  curve  bespoke  a  pride  as 
high  and  strong  as  liis  own — in  a  different  way.  But 
til  look  of  half-nH)ckery  seemed  the  prevailing  ex- 
pression of  the  piquant,  sparkling  little  face,  whose 
irregular  features  owed  their  chief  beauty  to  their  con- 
stant' animation.  Iler  look  of  miniijled  seriousness  and 
ino(;kery  it  was  that  so  puzzled  and  half  annoyed  Dis- 
browe,  and  left  him,  as  it  did  every  one  else,  at  a  loss 
to  tell  whether  she  was  in  jest  or  earnest,  Iler  hair 
was  soft,  silky,  and  beautiful,  and  hung  in  clustering, 
dancing  curls  around  her  bewitching  little  face;  but — 
it  was  red,  unconipromising,  deliant  red,  and  no  fiction 
of  friends  or  lovers  could  make  it  auburn.  A.nd  now 
it  flashed  and  scintillated  like  wings  of  flame  in  the 
radiant  sunshine. 

There  was  something  else  about  Jack  De  Vere  that 
puzzled  and  perplexed  Disbrowe  not  a  little  ;  and  that 
was,  her  strong  and  undetinable  resemblance  to  some 
one  he  had  met  before — who  at  that  moment  he  could 
not  remember.  There  she  stood  before  him,  cool, 
bright,  breezy,  airy,  and  nnmistaka1)ly  fair,  reminding 
liim  of  a  saucy  boy — a  very  saucy  boy — yet  with  the 
air  and  grace  of  a  lady  withal. 

From  all  he  liad  heard  of  her.  Captain  Disbrowo 
judged  she  must  be  an  Amazon,  a  romp,  a  hoyden — 
the  horror  antl  abomination  of  the  I'elined,  fastidious 
Englishman.  Accustomed  to  the  cold  hauteur  and 
high-bred  elegance  of  the  ladies  and  peeresses  of  his 
native  land,  he  shrank  in  horror  from  anything  like 
hoydcnism  ;  and  an  Amazon  would  have  been  looked 
n])on  by  him  in  about  the  same  way  as  he  would  havo 
looked  upon  a  grizzly  bear  or  the  gi'eat  sea-serpent — as 


64 


JACK    1)E     VEUE. 


soinethin^  to  jjjaze  and  sliudder  at,  at  ii  distance.  Tho 
light,  fragile  ligure,  and  fair,  delicate  face  of  this  young 
girl,  seemed,  though,  to  contradict  the  idea  that  she  could 
be  one  of  these  monsters;  hut  from  all  lie  had  heard  of 
her  from  I'Vank,  it  left  him  to  infer  that  she  was,  and 
that  he  must  not  judge  by  appearances.  Then,  too, 
she  had  red  hair,  which  he  detested  as  betokening 
vulgarity  and  a  fiery  temper — two  revolting  things, 
according  to  his  high  and  spirituelle  notions  of  the 
adorable  sex  ;  and  she  bore  a  boy's  name,  which  was 
another  shock  to  his  particular  and  fastidious  taste. 
And  so  altogether,  in  the  very  few  minutes  that  he 
stood  watching  her,  he  made  up  his  mind,  quite  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  to  dislike  Jack  De  Vere,  and  only 
think  of  her  as  something  to  smile  at  and  pity. 

But  if  he  thought  to  mortify  the  young  girl  before 
him  by  such  a  course,  never  was  self-complacent  man 
more  wofully  doomed  to  disappointment.  Cool  as  a 
Lapland  icicle,  self-possessed  and  self-conscious  as  a 
crowned  queen  on  her  throne,  indifferent  and  careless 
as  the  breeze  that  toyed  with  her  fair  clustering  hair, 
she  stood  before  him,  with  a  pride  and  case  of  numner 
that,  in  its  very  depth  of  quietude,  arose  and  over- 
topped his  own,  and  gave  the  Honorable  Alfred  Dis- 
browe,  brother  of  an  earl  and  a  peer  in  prospective,  to 
understand  that,  if  he  intended  to  despise  her  he  must 
do  it  at  a  remarkably  safe  distance.  And  he,  the  flat- 
tered, courted,  and  caressed  in  all  the  gilded  salons  of 
brilliant  London,  who  had  danced  with  princesses, 
flirted  with  regal  duchesses,  and  made  love  to  Lady 
Georgianas  without  number — at  whose  coming  cheeks 
had  flushed,  and  bright  eyes  had  fallen,  and  hearts  had 
beat  faster — under  the  cool  gaze  of  whose  handsome 
eyes  many  a  pidse  under  a  diamond  bracelet  had 
bounded,  found  himself  now  calmly  waved  back,  and 
told  to  kcej)  his  i)lace ;  and  by  the  bright  clear  glance 
of  those  gray  eyes  made  to  understand  ho  must  remem- 
ber it,  too,  until  she  chose  to  descend  from  her  pin- 
nacle.    For  once  in  his  life,  the  dashing  Guardsman 


JACK    DE     VEIiE. 


05 


•I 


was  made  to  understand  that  a  handsome  face,  and  fine 
figure,  and  gallant  bearing,  and  aristocratic  name,  were 
not  perfectly  irresistible. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  a  quick,  imperative  voice,  in  tones 
of  mingled  amusement  and  sarcasm,  "  what  is  the  decis- 
ion ?  I  see  you  have  come  to  one.  I  have  undergone 
a  keen  scrutiny  for  the  last  two  or  three  minutes ;  and 
now  for  your  verdict,  my  lord  judge  ?" 

She  had  faced  round  so  8ud  Jenly  and  unexpectedly, 
and  looked  up  in  his  face  so  keenly,  with  her  peculiar 
mocking  smile,  that  a  slight  flush  tinged,  for  an  instant, 
the  fine  face  of  Disbrowe  in  his  conscious  guilt. 

"Ah,  you  needn't  speak.  I  can  read  my  sentence 
in  that  guilty  look  ;  and  you  have  pronounced  me  a 
second  edition  of  the  bottle-imp — a  natural  curiosity 
like  the  ourang-outang,  or  any  other  outlandish  animal, 
and  you  are  just  thinking  what  a  fortune  some  enterpris- 
ing showman  might  make  by  putting  me  into  a  cage, 
and  taking  me  over  to  London,  and  exhibiting  me  as  a 
real  live  specimen  of  that  terrific  creature — the  Ameri- 
can female.     Come,  confess — isn't  that  sof 

''  Is  it  possible  you  can  wrong  me  by  such  a  thought, 
my  dear  cousin?"  he  said,  recovering  himself.  '*  w  hat 
can  I  think  of  you  but  that  you  are  the  most  charming 
little  fairy  in  existence,  and  the  most  enchanting  of 
cousins." 

"  Do  you  really  ?"  said  the  young  lady,  casting  a 
critical  eye  to  where  one  of  the  servants  was  about  to 
lead  off  the  horses,  "  I  say,  AVilliam,  mind  what  you're 
at  there !  Would  you  take  those  horses,  reeking  hot, 
into  the  stables?  Walk  them  gently  up  and  down  for 
a  while,  can't  you  ?  And  so  that's  your  opinion,  is  it  ? 
hum!"  she  said,  with  her  provoking  smile.  "Well, 
what  else  do  you  tliink  about  me  ?  It  didn't  take  y(ju 
all  that  time  to  conclude  I  was  charming,  and  wliat  else 
was  it  ? — oh,  enciianting  !  did  it  ?" 

"  By  no  means,  how  could  I  help  thinking  you 
were  very  beautiful  ?" 

"Dazzlingly   beautiful   is   the   term   my   admirers 


66 


JACK    I)E     VERB. 


generally  use,  and  1  like  it  better,"  amended  the  young 

"Dazzlingly  beautiful,  then  be  it ;  the  term  is  most 
upproj)riate,  and  shows  the  good  taste  of  your  admirers, 
Miss  De  Vere." 

A  sudden,  hot  flush,  like  a  rising  flame,  leaped  into 
the  eheeks  of  the  young  girl  at  the  words. 

"  Miss  De  Vere/'  she  said,  vehemently,  "  don't  call 
me  that !  I  hate  the  name !  I  do  hate  it !"  she  said, 
almost  passionately. 

lie  looked  at  her  in  amazement,  to  see  her  cheeks 
hot,  and  her  eyes  flashing  for  an  instant;  and  then,  the 
next,  as  she  met  his  gaze,  as  if  by  magic  her  face 
cleared  again,  and  she  looked  up  at  him  and  laughed. 

"Don't  be  sho(dved !  I  hate  formality,  I  mean; 
and  it  rather  startles  me  to  be  called  anything  so  stately 
as  '  Miss  Do  Vere,'  "  and  she  mimicked  his  tone  to  per- 
fection. "■  I'm  not  used  to  it,  you  see ;  and  it  doesn't 
agree  with  my  constitution  and  by-laws,  either.  Call 
me  Jacquetta,  or  Jack,  or  I'll  come  without  calling  at 
all,  if  you  prefer  it.  'Just  whistle,  and  I'll  come  to 
yuu,  my  lad,'  rather  that  style  of  thing,  you  know." 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Miss  Jacquetta,  and  may  I 
also  hope  to  hear  my  Christian  name  in  music  from 
your  lips." 

"  To  be  sure — yon  didn't  expect  I  intended  calling 
you  anything  else — did  you  'i  and  you  my  own  cousin, 
too,"  and  she  laughed,  and  gave  him  a  glance  so  full  of 
hidden,  mocking  meaning,  that  he  was  more  puzzled 
what  to  make  of  her  than  ever.  "  And  pray  what  is 
it^  John,  Peter,  Barnabas,  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry,  or 
what  ?" 

"  Neither ;  it  happens  to  be  Alfred  De  Vere  Dis- 
browe." 

''  Phew  !  All  that  for  a  name.  Suppose  we  make 
it  Alt',  for  short,  eh  i  Aj)/'opos  of  long  names,  there 
is  an  old  Puritan  womar.  who  has  lived  at  Fontelle,  as 
a  sort  of  privileged  servant,  ever  since  I  can  remember, 


JACK    DE     VElti:. 


vt 


and  her  name  is  Tribulation  Fear  the  Lord  Rawbones 
— there's  a  name  for  you  !" 
Disbrowe  hiuii-hed. 

CD 

''  Yes  ;  rather  an  inconvenient  name  for  every-day 
use,  isn't  it?" 

"  Oh,  we  call  her  Tribby,  except  on  festivals,  and 
then  she  gets  her  name  in  full.  JJut  now.  Cousin  Al- 
fred, are  we  to  go  up  to  the  house  ;  c",  rs  you  have  ex- 
hausted the  subject  of  my  innumerable  ;  ^rfections,  am  I 
to  begin  and  say  pretty  things  to  you  i — which  !■" 

"  J.  propose  that  we  adjourn  to  the  house,  and  I  will 
take  all  the  pretty  things  for  granted.  I  wish  to  see 
my  uncle  and  my  other  cousins,  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Well,  come  along  then  ;  Iney  are  l)oth  in,  as  it  hap- 
pens, and  will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  of  course." 

Both  walked  aloni::  together,  and  ascended  a  broad 
flight  of  marble  steps  thftt  led  U])  to  the  massive  hall- 
door,  in  the  center  part  of  the  building.  This  opened 
into  a  vast  hall,  high,  dark,  and  silent,  and  flanked  on 
cither  side  by  doors,  and  with  a  staircase  of  pohshed 
oak  at  the  farthei*  end,  leading  to  the  upper  rooms. 
Opening  a  door  to  the  right,  Jacquetta  ushered  him  in- 
to a  spacious  drawing-room,  very  high,  very  dark,  very 
grand,  and  silent,  and  bearing  over  the  high  marble 
mantel  the  escutcheon  of  the  house  of  De  Vere,  with 
its  brilliant  silver  star.  The  furniture  was  carved  and 
massive,  and  evidently  belonged  to  a  former  genera- 
tion ;  and  a  few  rare  old  pictures,  masterpieces  of 
master  jDainters,  hung  around  the  walls.  The  immense 
windows,  reaching  almost  from  floor  to  ceiling,  were 
hung  with  dark  purple  damask,  lined  with  corn-colored 
silk  ;  and  the  thick,  dark  carpet  was  no  dainty  Brussels 
or  Turkey  alfaii*,  but  one  that  had  evidently  been  used 
for  half  a  century,  and  was  likely  to  stand  half  a  cen- 
tury more.  The  chairs,  and  tables,  and  sofas,  were  all 
of  the  .-ame  nui&sivo,  carved,  antique  pattern  ;  and  the 
eyes  of  the  young  Englishman  lit  up  witii  pleasure,  as 
he  looked  around  and  half-audibly  murmured  :    "  A  flt 


G8 


JACK    1)E     VEUE. 


li.i  ' 


<\  \ 


liorae  for  a  (Icscoiuliint  of  the  old  l)c  Ycrcs.  I  Late 
now  furniture  and  new  lioubcs.'' 

Jacquetta  had  left  liini  upon  his  entrance  ;  and  for  a 
time  lie  was  left  alone  to  wonder  a  little  at  the  profound 
silence  of  the  house,  and  wonder  more  what  maimer  of 
girl  this  odd  cousin  of  his  might  be.  Before  he  could 
come  to  any  satisfactory  conclusion,  the  massive  oaken 
door  swung  open,  and  a  tall,  hale  old  man,  of  stately 
presence  and  digniHed  mien,  "kindly  but  frosty,"  stood 
on  the  threshold,  with  a  lady  on  his  arm. 

"  ]\ly  dear  boy,  I'm  delighted  to  sec  you,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  voice  of  cordial  welcome,  as  he  came  for- 
ward, aiid  grasping  both  JJisbrovre's  hands,  shook  them 
heartily.  "  AV' hat  an  unexi)ected  pleasure  this  is,  to  bo 
sure  !  Jjless  me  !  how  like  you  are  to  your  mother,  my 
poor  sister  Clara,  my  dear  boy !  You  look  like  a  Do 
Vcre,  every  inch  of  you.  Allow  me  to  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  your  cousins — this  is  my  daughter 
Augusta,  and  this  is  my  daughter  Jacquetta,  hut  you 
know  her  already,  it  appears.'^ 

"I  have  that  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Disbrowe,  bowing 
to  "  my  daughter  Augusta,"  a  tall,  haughty,  dark-e^'cd, 
dark-haired,  pale-faced  beauty,  cold  and  stately  as  a 
duchess,  with  the  tine,  proud,  aristocratic  face  of  the 
De  Veres — as  dillerent  from  her  sister  as  day  IVom 
uigh.t. 

"Ah,  is  it  a  pleasure?"  said  Miss  Jacquetta,  airily, 
"  I  didn't  know.  Perhaps,  before  you  are  acquainted 
with  ni«3  long,  you  will  have  another  notion  about 
that." 

"  Tut,  tut,  sauce-box !"  said  her  father,  chucking 
her  uiuler  the  chin.  "  Little  girls  should  be  seen  and 
not  heard,  my  dear.  You  musn'tmind  our  little  Jacky, 
my  boy  ;  she's  a  s[)oiled  ciiild,  and  nothing  else,  and 
thinks  herself  i)rivileged  to  say  whatever  she  thiidvs." 

"  A  rare  virtue  in  this  insincere  world,"  said  Dis- 
browe, politely. 

"  Is  it  always  a  virtue?"  said  Ihe  fair,  proud  Augus- 
ta, lying  languidly  back    in   her  chair,  and  lifting  her 


JACK    BE     VERE. 


09 


eyes  slowl3',  as  though  it  was  too  much  trouble  to  raise 
their  lieavy  Hds. 

"  In  Miss  Jacquetta  it  doubtless  is,  and  cannot  be 
sufficiently  admired,  more  particularly,  as  the  charming 
grace  with  which — " 

"  Tiicre,  Cousin  Alf  !*'  broke  in  Jacquetta,  Hinging 
herself  into  a  chair,  and  holding  up  one  tiny  foot,  and 
looking  at  it  critically, ''  don't  \n\i  yourself  out  to  turn 
a  compliment.  I'll  inuigine  the  rest,  as  you  did  a  while 
ago,  you  know.  As  to  his  not  minding  me,  papa,  I 
wouldn't  advise  him,  as  a  friend,  to  try  it,  for — did 
you  ever  see  an  enraged  American  female,  Captain 
IJisbrowe  i" 

*'  Kot  as  I  am  aware  of." 

"  "Well,  then,  don't — as  long  as  you  can  help  it ;  for 
the  forty  horse-power  essence  of  wild-cats  is  nothing  to 
it !  It's  something  terriiic,  I  tell  you,  and  lias  to  be 
seen  to  be  aj^preciated.  You  cold-blooded  English, 
over  there,  can't  begin  to  have  the  first  idea  of  what 
it's  like." 

"Come,  Jacquetta,  come!  this  won't  do,"  said 
"  papa,"  fidgeting,  and  taking  a  juncli  of  snulf. 

'•  Why,  1  hope  you  consider  yourself  English,  Miss 
Jacquetta,"  t^aid  Di.<browe. 

"Me!  not  J  !  J  scoi'n  the  idea!  Tm  Yankee  to 
the  core  of  my  heart!  A  regular  Jersey  true-blue! 
Me  English,  indeed  !  I  look  as  if  1  had  much  of  Hic 
])lodding,  sobev-g<jing  John  Ijull  about  me  ! — don'c  I  V 

"^«o\v,  ,Iac(piettii,  my  dear,  how  car.  you  f"  said 
papa,  deprccatingly,  while  a  faint  smile  dawned  on  the 
nK)onlight  face  of  J^ady  Augusta,  and  an  angry  light 
lea])ed  to  the  dark  eyes  of  the  haughty  young  English- 
man.    Eortunately,  at  that  moment  a  bell  rang. 

"  The  lirst  boll,"  said  tho  master  of  the  liouse, 
rising,  ''dinner  will  be  served  in  half  an  hour;  and  1 
presume  you  will  wish  a  few  moments'  rest  after  your 
long  ride." 

"I  certainly  recjuire  it,'"  said  J)isbrowt .  running  his 
lingers  through  the  diaheveled  lucks  of  his  rich  brown 


I''l' 


70 


JACK    DE     VERB. 


0  y 


'^ 


■I 


hair  ;  "  and  I  am  rather  travel -stained  just  at  present, 
no  doubt." 

lie  held  open  the  duor  for  the  young  ladies  to  pass 
out,  us  he  spoke.  Tlie  queenly  Augusta  ac^knowlcdged 
the  eourtesy  by  the  slightest  beat  of  her  proud  head  ; 
but  Jaetjuctta  looked  cunningly  up  in  his  face,  and 
hiughed,  and  kissed  her  hand  to  iiini,  and  danced  after 
her  stately  sister  like  an  incarnate  sunbeam. 

Then  Mr.  De  Vere  rang  the  bell,  and  a  spruce 
chambermaid  escorted  Captain  Disbrowe  up  stairs  to  a 
Ion ;  gallery,  tlanked,  like  the  hall  below,  with  doors, 
and  ushered  hiin  into  what  his  host  had  called  the 
"Star  Chamber" — a  superbly  litted-up  apartment,  with 
the  walls  and  ceiling  genuned  with  stars  in  an  azure 
ground,  and  the  cornices  fretted  with  gold  net-work. 
A  Large,  square,  old-fashioned  bed,  lumg  with  heavy 
drapery  of  blue  and  silver,  stood  (>})posite  the  door,  and 
the  large  oriel  windows  were  dra])ed  \vith  curtains  of 
the  same,  la  the  immense  llr(!-])lace  roai  d  and  iilazed 
a  huge  wood-llro,  that  warmed  ujid  lit  up  the  whole 
room,  and  si;emed  to  make  the  starry  car])et  on  the 
floor  literally  sparkle.  An  immense  mirror,  reaching  to 
the  coiling,  rellected  back  the  room;  and  on  a  large 
oak  table  beside  it  lay  books  and  drawings,  and  numer- 
ous elegant  toilet  tritlch  iJut  none  of  these  'jbjects  at- 
tracted the  eye  of  Disl)rowe-  -something  else  had  (laught 
his  attention  the  moment  he  entered,  and  held  it  chained 
still.  Over  the  bronze  mantel  hung  a  picture  in  an 
oval  frame,  heavily  carved  ;  a  portrait  of  a  small,  mock- 
ing, tantalizing,  Ixiwitching  face,  with  short,  waving 
curls,  and  sj)arkling.  Hashing,  gray  eyes,  scintill.ttiiig 
with  mirth  and  mischief,  and  hidden  powei".  It  Wu*<  a, 
portrait  of  dacquetta  De  Verc  ;  ajid  the  red  lips  seemed 
wreathed  inb)  a  mocking  smile,  and  thf^  flashing  -'yes 
seemed  to  di>ride  him,  as  they  met  his  own.  'J'he  hnad 
was  half  turned,  as  if  she  were  looking  back — justasiie 
had  seen  her  when  siie  left  the  room  a  nioii*ent  b«'f<>r»", 
with  the  same  wicked,  half-deliant,  half  luug:-H>"-  niMcr. 

Leaning  his  arm  on  the  mantel,  ani.  qnilL  .  'rgetful 


ei 


JACJK    DE     VERE, 


71 


of  the  flight  of  time,  he  stood  there  and  looked  at  it. 
What  thoughts  were  thronging  througli  In's  iiiind  at 
that  moment?  Did  he  think  of  the  prediction  of  the 
weird  witch  of  the  lone  inn~uf  the  dark,  loathgome 
pit,  at  the  bottom  of  which,  her  iiigh  pride  laid  low,  she 
was  to  lie  at  his  feet?  Did  he  think  of  it  aft-rward  in 
the  dark  days  that  were  to  come,  when  he  knew  a  doom 
worse  than  death  was  hers— that  fair,  high-spirited 
young  girl,  whose  bright  face  smiled  on  him  from  the 
wall  now. 


i 


%■ 


72 


THE     SECRET. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE   SECRET. 


h^ 


'*  She  said,  aud  raised  her  skinny  iiand, 
As  in  defiance,  to  high  heaven. 
And  stretched  her  long,  lean  linger  forth, 
Aud  sjioke  aloud  the  words  of  power." 

— TnALABA. 

HE  dinner  bell  had  run«i^,  and  a  long  interval 
had  succeeded,  but  still  tlie  Honorable  Al- 
fred Disbrowe  stirred  not ;  still  he  stood 
gazing  on  that  j)icture,  charmed,  fascinated, 
as  a  bird  is  charniod  nnd  fascinated  by  a 
serpent.  Not  that  the  knowinjr,  dashing,  young 
Guardsman,  the  gay  nuni  of  fashion,  had  much  of  the 
innocence  and  simplicity  of  a  bird  about  him,  and 
neitlier  would  I  insinuate  that  Miss  Jacquetta  Do  Vere 
had  anything  of  the  dark  and  dreadful  subtlety  of  a 
6er])ent ;  but  certainly  it  was  some  sensation  akin  to 
snake-charming  that  invited  his  eyes  to  that  ])i(j[uant, 
entrancing,  yet  anything  but  beaulil'ul  face.  It  was  not 
love — on  the  contrary,  it  was  more  like  positive  dis- 
like; but  still  he  stood  and  gazed,  quite  forgetful  that 
he  was  to  arrange  his  dress,  and  that  the  bell  had  rung 
ten  minutes  before,  and  that,  in  all  jirobability,  the 
original  was  waiting  down  stairs,  and  in  no  very  sweet 
humor  at  that  sanu^  wailing. 

A  sharp  knock  at  the  door  startku]  him  at  last  from 
his  reverie,  and  in  answer  b>  his  ''  Come  in,''  the  door 
oi)ened,  and  hVaiik  entered. 

"  What !  not  ready  yet,  and  the  dinner  waiting  for 
the  last  ten  minutes,  and  Uncle  liob  the  most  ])articular 
old  gentleman   that  ever  wore  a  wig!  Whew !"  said 


I 


f- 


THE     SECRET. 


73 


Master  Fr.ink,  thrusting  his  hands  into  liis  pockets,  and 
beginning  to  whistle. 

"Js  it  possible?"  said  Disbrowc,  starting  uj), 
shocked  at  his  want  of  thought.  "  I  deserve  the  bas- 
tinado I'or  my  neglect,  I  can't  tell  what  I  was  think- 
ing of,  to  forget  myself  so,"  he  said,  as  he  hurriedly 
bci^au  to  arrange  his  toilet. 

"  Well,  hurry  up,  and  I'll  wait  for  you,"  said  Frank, 
seating  himself.  "  Jack  advised  uncle  to  send  up  one 
of  the  kitchen-maids  to  help  you  to  make  yourself  fas- 
cinating— it  took  you  so  long.  So  they've  put  you  in 
the  Star  Chamber,  have  they  I  There's  Jack's  picture. 
J  remember  the  day  she  Jiung  it  there,  and  called  it  the 
brightest  star  of  the  lot.     Do  you  think  her  good-look- 


iiif,'  V 


"  Certainly — you  know  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
bad-looking  woman,"  said  Disbrowe,  politely. 

"Oh,  isn't  there? — what  a  blessed  beaut}' Mother 
Grizzle  is,  for  instance !  Gusty's  good-looking  though 
— ain't  she  ?" 

"  Very  beautiful,"  said  Disbrowe,  in  all  sincerity 
this  time ;  "  she  is  a  true  De  Yore." 

"  "Which  would  you  take  to  bo  the  oldest  now — 
Jack  or  Gus?"  said  Frank. 

"•  Miss  Augusta,  of  course,"  said  Disbrowe,  sur- 
jirised  at  such  a  cpiestion. 

"  1  knew  it,"  said  Frank,  with  a  chuckle,  "  but  she 
ain't,  though.     Jack's  two  or  three  ycms  older." 

'^  Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  Disbrowe,  in  astonish- 
ment.     "  1  can  scarcely  credit  it !" 

"  Well,  you  may,  then.  Gusty's  only  eighteen,  and 
Jack's  twenty,  and  more,  for  all  I  know.  She  looks 
younger — don't  she?  Dut  that's  because  ^-h  '\s  so  small 
and  fair — fair  people  always  look  younger  than  they 
i\!ally  are,  you  know." 

"  Younger  I  1  hardly  took  her  to  be  sixteen,"  said 
Disbrowe,  "she  certainly  does  not  look  that." 

"  She  is,  then,  and  she  makes  no  bones  of  telling  it, 
cither  ;  and  then   it  makes  her  look  like  a  I'ttU^  girl, 


% 


m '  i 


31 


m 


I 


Mi,' 

4'' 


74 


THE     SECRET. 


I 


J  1 


wearing  her  hair  flying  about  her  face  in  curls,  instead 
of  braiding  it,  and  lixing  it  up  like  Gusty  does.  Do 
you  like  red  hair  ?" 

"  No ;  but  then  Mks  Jacquetta's  is  aubura,  is  it 
not?"  said  Disbrowe,  with  another  polite  fiction. 

"  Auburn  !"  said  Frank,  contemptuously,  "  it  won't 
be  well  for  you  to  tell  Jack  that,  anyway  !  She's  proud 
of  her  leonine  locks,  I  can  tell  you,  and  calls  it  her 
crowning  glory,  and  wouldn't  change  it,  she  says,  for 
any  other  color  under  the  sun.  I  remember  Will  lled- 
fern  called  her  a  young  lioness  once,  with  her  red  mane, 
after  she  horsewdiipped  him,  one  day,  in  the  street." 

Disbrowe  shuddered. 

"  Ilorsewhipped  him  !  Good  heavens  !  what  did 
she  do  that  for  i     It  can't  be  possible,  surely." 

"  Yes,  it  is  i)ossible,  and  served  him  just  right,  I 
say ;  and  what's  more,  she  wouldn't  mind  doing  it 
over  again.  lie  insulted  a  girl,  and  she  told  Jacquetta, 
and  as  tlie  girl  had  no  father  or  brother  to  take  her 
part.  Jack  gave  him  particular  fits  with  her  horsewhip 
the  next  time  she  met  him.  Oh  !  she's  a  spunky,  1 
promise  you!  Take  care  you  don't  anger  her  some 
day,"  said  Frank,  laughing,  "or  she'll  be  after  you  with 
a  sharp  stick." 

"  Heaven  forbid !"  exclaimed  Disbrowe,  in  horror. 
"  AVhat  an  Amazon  she  is  I  Who  would  ever  think  a 
Do  Vere  could  do  such  an  atrocious  thing  !" 

"  I  know  another  De  Yere  who  did  such  an  atro- 
cious thing,  and  it  wasn't  to  avenge  distressed  inno- 
cence, either,"  said  Fmnk,  maiicdously. 

"  You  mean  me,  I  suppose,"  said  Disbrowe,  laugh- 
ing, "but  I'm  not  a  girl.  Perhaps,  though,  it's  the 
fashion  for  young  girls  to  act  so  here,  in  America." 

"  Oh,  every  one's  independent  here — do  just  as  they 
like,  and  don't  care  a  snap  for  their  neighbors  ;  and  our 
Jack's  the  pluckiest  one  of  tiie  lot.  '  Although  she's  Ijut 
little,  she's  made  of  good  mettle,'  as  the  old  song  says." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Disbrowe,  brushing  his  tan- 
gled locks,  "she  reminds  me  so  much  of  some  one  else 


THE     SECRET. 


75 


1? 
n- 


I  have  seen,  I  can't  think  who — a  shadowy  resembhmce 
in  every  iiiotioji." 

*'  1  think  she  looks  like  little  Orrio  Ilowlet,  at  the 
inn,  if  that's  what  yoa  mean,"  said  Frank,  "  ahhongli 
Orrie's  a  regular  little  sqiiaw  for  darkness,  and  Jack's 
fair  as  she  well  can  be.  I  know  they  always  remind 
me  of  one  another ;  and  others  say  so,  too." 

"  Yes,  now  I  think  of  it,  she  does,"  said  Disbrowe, 
meditatively,  "  but  somehow  she's  not  the  one  I  mean. 
13y  Jove !  1  have  it,  now,"  he  cried,  with  a  start,  "  she 
looks  like  the  fellow  I  horsewhipped — a  pocket-edition 
of  that  same  old  coon,  revised  and  improved,  with  tlio 
very  same  inso — the  very  same  look  iu  her  eyes  that  he 
iias." 

"  Good  gracious !"  said  Frank,  laughing,  "  here's  a 
discovery!  Our  Jack  like  old  ISlick  Tempest !  Wiiat 
would  Jack  say  if  she  hoard  that.  X(jt  but  what  I  1)0- 
lieve  she  would  take  it  as  a  compliment ;  for  she  faii-ly 
dotes  on  dare-devils  like  him,  and  would  make  a  tip-top 
wife  for  a  salt-sea  rover  or  an  Italian  bi-igand." 

"  Speaking  of  brigands,"  said  Disbrowe,  "  reminds 
me  that  I  saw  with  old  Nick  Tempest,  as  you  call  him, 
a  most  enchanting  little  specimen  of  that  article,  in  a 
real  brigandish  rig.  Now,  then,"  he  added,  giving  a 
few  finishing  touches,  "  I  am  at  your  service." 

Both  descended  to  the  dining-room, where  they  found 
Mr.  De  Vere  and  his  two  daughters  awaiting  them. 
Disbrowe's  apology  for  detaining  them  was  smilingly 
accej)te(l,  and  all  were  soon  seated  round  the  ample 
board  of  the  master  of  Fontelle  Ilall. 

During  the  meal,  Disbrowe  made  some  iufjuiries 
about  the  society  of  tlic  neighborhood  and  the  gi^ntry. 

''(gentry,"  said  Lady  Augusta,  with  her  languid 
smile,  "  we  have  no  such  thing  here,  captain.  '  All  nu3ii 
are  born  free  and  equal,' isn't  that  what  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  says,  papa?" 

"  How  do  you,  iliss  Do  Y*  re,  believe  in  such  hum- 
bug as  that?"  said  Disbrowe,  with  a  curling  lip. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  young  lady,  steadily,  and  with 


\      1 


75 


THE     SECRET. 


uTlV 


i 


I     ill 


it 


a  rising  flush  tinging,  for  a  moment,  her  pale  cheek, 
"  tliat  })ri(le  of  birth  is  carried  to  an  absurd  excess  in 
England.  Will  it  redeem  a  mean  or  dishonorable 
character  that  lie  can  boast  his  forefathers  entered  with 
the  Conquest,  and  can  display  a  coat-of-arms  that 
readies  back  for  a  score  of  generations.  1  think,"  she 
said,  with  increasing  warmth,  and  an  unusual  light  in 
her  dark  eye,  and  an  unusual  ilush  on  her  pale  (jlieek, 
"  that  a  man  of  the  people,  who  rises  by  his  own  unaid- 
ed elfcjrts  in  the  battle  ot"  Jit'e,  to  power  and  distinction, 
deserves  a  thousand-fold  more  esteem  and  respect,  and 
should  be  a  prouder  man,  than  he  avIio  can  trace  his 
descent  back  to  the  days  of  William  theOonrpieror,  and 
can  boast  of  nothing  else.  The  great  Earl  of  Oxford, 
from  whom  we  Do  Veres  boast  we  have  descended,  was 
a  great  man,  doui)tless,  in  his  day,  and  would  hav^e 
ppurned  the  people,  as  the  dust  under  his  feet;  but 
whether  will  ho  or  Washington,  the  Man  of  the  People, 
be  lonixest  j'cmembered?  Which  is  the  i^reater,  let 
posterity  decide.  (,)ne  was  forgotten  many  and  many 
a  year  ago;  but  while  the  world  lasts,  will  the  other 
ever  cease  to  be  remembered  and  revered." 

"  Ih'avo !  encore !  I  say,"  shouted  Frank,  de- 
lighted. 

"  Keally,  Augusta,"  said  her  father,  laying  down  his 
knife  and  fork,  and  looking  at  her,  "  a  change  has 
come  o'er  the  spirit  of  your  dream  lately.  Two  years 
ago,  my  dear  Alfred,  there  never  was  a  greater  aris- 
tocrat than  the  young  lady  Vvho  has  just  made  that 
republican  speech ;  she  would  have  trodden  on  the 
necks  of  the  people  as  remorselessly  as  your  haughty 
brother,  Eaiaeclilfe,  himself,  and  thought  them  honored 
by  the  condescension  ;  when,  lo  and  behold  !  she  sud- 
denly faces  about,  and  becomes  a  red-hot  rebel  and 
republican — staiuls  up  for  the  people,  aiul  advocates 
c(pial  I'ights,  and  liberty,  fraternity,  and  equality,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it,  as  furiously  as  if  she  were  one  of  a 
French  mob.  What  has  changed  her  tactics,  [  don't 
know ;  but  changed  they  are,  with  a  vengeance,  and  I 


TUE     SECRET. 


77 


expect  her  to  crown  it  all  by  marrying  a  Smith,  Jones, 
or  Robinson,  one  day  shortly !  I  shan't  be  at  all  sur- 
prised, if  she  docs." 

lie  laughed,  as ,  he  spoke;  but  at  the  last  words  a 
di.-adly  paleness  swept  over  the  beautiful  face  of  his 
daughter,  leaving  her,  even  to  her  lips,  cold  and  white 
as  marble.  Disbrowe  lifted  his  eyes,  and  looked  at 
her,  as  if  a  sndden  light  had  dawned  npon  him,  and 
slightly  smiled. 

''  Miss  Augusta  is  too  siaunch  a  De  Yere  ever  to 
marry  beneath  her,*'  he  said,  significantly. 

'*  Be  assui'ed  of  that,  sir  I''  she  said,  haughtily.  "  I 
never  shall  1" 

"  That's  my  proud  Lady  Augusta !"  said  her  father, 
laughing.  "  But  what's  got  into  my  little  Jack-o'- 
lantern  here,  that  she  sits  so  still  ?" 

"  It's  so  seldom  I  hear  sensible  people  talk,  papa," 
said  Jacquetta,  demurely,  "that  1  like  to  listen  in 
silent  awe,  when  they  do — that's  all." 

"1  am  afraid  Miss  Jacquetta  is  inclined  to  be  scar- 
castic,"  said  Disbrowe,  coloring  slightly  at  her  covert 
smile. 

"  Me !"  said  Jacquetta,  raising  her  eye  brows  in  in- 
nocent surprise.  "  Oh,  no !  1  hope  you  don't  suspect 
me  of  anything  so  L^hocking." 

"  Tell  him  about  our  gentry,  puss,"  said  Mr.  De 
Vere,  \vith  a  sly  chuckle.  "  You  know  every  one  with- 
in forty  miles  rouiid." 

"  Yes  ;  and  farther,  too,"  said  Jacquetta.  "  And  I 
shall  be  only  too  happy  to  take  Cousin  Alfred  around 
and  introduce  him.  First,  there's  the  Brontes — their 
real  name  is  Brown,  but  that's  no  matter — and  there 
are  six  girls,  the  oldest  of  whom  has  been  eighteen  for 
the  last  live  years,  and  intends  to  be  for  live  more;  and 
the  rest  of  whom,  likewise,  have  come  to  a  stand-still, 
and  are  Hrmly  resolved  to  set  Time  at  deliance,  and  not 
grow  a  day  older  until  Seraphina  Clementina  is  married. 
Their  father  will  give  theiutivc  hundred  dollars  apiece 


I 


•  1 

Ill 


78 


THE     SECRET. 


fortune,  and  tlieir  husbands  a  share  in  the  pork  and 
tallow  business;  and  it  would  be  an  excellent  thini;  for 
Cousin  Alfred,  if  he  was  to  ^"et  one  of  them.  Then 
there\s  Miss  Arethusa  Desmond,  a  limp  young  lady,  on 
the  bean-pole  pattern,  with  white  hair  and  eyes,  who 
never  pronounces  the  letter  '  r,'  and  who  informed  me 
the  other  day  she  had  '  just  wead  Kin*^  Leali,  a  play  by 
one  Mistah  Shakspeah,  and  she  liked  it  so  vewy  much 
that  she  intended  making  her  pu  buy  her  the  vewy  next 
he  wrote.'  Then  there's  Mrs.  Flartie,  a  'fuiTinner,' 
whose  name  in  the  original  Greek  is  O'Flaherty,  and 
who  snubs  her  husband — worthy  little  soul ! — till  ho 
dar'n't  sneeze  in  her  presence,  without  asking  permis- 
sion first,  and  who  is  madly  jealous  of  me  because  I  pet 
the  poor,  dear,  innocent  little  man,  and  look  after  him 
generally,  and  who  calls  mo  an  '  irapident  little  red- 
headed rip,'  when  I'm  not  listening.  Then  there  is 
Miss  Betsy  Boggs  and  her  two  sisters,  all  of  whom  will 
make  a  dead  set  at  our  handsome  cousin  " — and  Jac- 
quetta  bowed  and  smiled  across  the  table,  in  the  old 
malicious  way — "'and  capture  him  or  die  in  the  at- 
tempt. Think  how  it  would  look  when  Lord  Earne- 
clilie  would  read  it  in  the  papers  :  Married — By  the 
Reverend  Jedi'diah  Spinitout,  Captain  Alfred  JJe  Vere, 
late  of  Her  Majesty's  Guards,  to  Miss  Betsy  Boggs, 
eldest  daughter  of  Simon  Peter  Boggs,  of  Boggs'  llole, 
Jersey." 

Here  a  roar  of  laughter  from  ITrank  interrupted 
Jacfpictta. 

'•  What  a  malicious  little  imp  !"  thought  Disbrowe, 
inwardly  wishing  the  wicked  fairy  ten  feet  deep  in 
Thames'  nmd  at  that  minute. 

''  That's  all,  I  think,"  said  Jaequetta,  I'cflectively. 
"  Oh,  no  !  there's  Mrs.  Grizzle  llowlet,  an  estimable 
old  lady,  and  mighty  pretty  to  look  at,  who  lives  over 
there  among  the  frogs  in  the  swamps  somewhere.  It's 
not  likely  you  would  fall  in  love  with  her,  though,  as 
she's  a  widow,  and  you  might  object  to  a  second-hand 
wife." 


TIIE     SECRET. 


7ft 


"  Oil,  T  am  not  particuliir !"  said  Disbrowc,  careless- 
ly:  "  hut  I  have  seen  the  lady  in  question,  and  I  rather 
tliink,  if  J  did,  she  would  soon  he  a  widow  a^ain.  As 
it  is,  she  (!anie  pretty  near  hringing  my  earthly  career 
to  an  end  ;  and  only  for  the  providential  interposition 
of  my  young  friend,  Frank  there,  you  would  hardly 
have  seen  me  at  Fontelle  to-day,  I  fancy." 

Ail  looked  at  him  in  curiosity,  and  the  young 
Guardsman  promptly  related  iiis nocturnal  adventure  at 
the  old  house.  ]\Ir.  De  Vere  and  Augusta  listened  in 
silent  horror,  Frank  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  dismay, 
and  Jacquetta  puckered  up  her  rosy  mouth  and — 
whistled ! 

"The  atrocious  old  hag!"  exclaimed  Mr.  De  Vere. 
"  Good  lieavens  !  that  such  a  den  should  so  long  have 
existed  in  a  peaceable  connnunity!  I  renjember,  now, 
that  about  eight  months  ago  there  was  a  rumor  of  a 
missing  Frenchman — a  stranger  here — and  of  whom  no 
tidings  could  ever  be  discovered.  lie  must  have  been 
the  one  the  little  girl  spoke  to  you  of.  1  shall  have  the 
old  witch  and  her  two  rascally  sons  arrested  before 
another  sun  sets." 

"  I  often  did  hear,"  said  Jacquetta,  "  that  any  one 
born  to  be  hanged  will  never  be  drowned;  and  now  I 
shall  rhink  it  applies  to  other  cases  besides  drowning." 

"  AVhich  implies,  you  think,  an  elevated  destiny  for 
me,"  said  Disbrowe. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  riding  over  with  me  to-mor- 
60W,  Alfred  V  said  Mr.  De  Vere.  "  We  will  go  to 
Green  Creek,  a  town  about  a  <juarter  of  a  mile  from 
this,  and  get  tiiree  or  four  men  to  accompany  us.  The 
accujsed  crew  !  they  ought  to  be  lynched !" 

"  I  am  quite  at  your  service,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Dis- 
browe. ''It  w^ill  be  a  good  deed  to  rid  the  world  of 
6uch  a  gang." 

"  To  morrow,  then,  we'll  see  the  secrets  of  that  old 
fe'iik  of  iniquity  brought  to  light,  and  Grizzle  IJowlet 
and  her  sons  and  worthy  brother  in  chains,"  said  Mr. 
De  Vere. 


I 


t't 


^  Vi 


,  I'M 

%  ' 


•}i  i1 


80 


THE     SECRET. 


r^ 


r«, 


II  j 

i; 

r 

Ik! 


I  ,j  J 


1 

I 


'.'.^ 


"Not  quite  so  fiist,  niy  good  sir,  I  will  luivc  to  be 
consulted  ubout  tliiit!"  suid  a  loud,  liar.^li  voice,  as  tlic 
door  was  lluii^>;  violently  open,  and  (irizzle  lloulet  her- 
self stood  beloro  *heni.  All  s])riing  to  (heir  feet  in 
amazement.  A  frightened  servant  eamc  behind  her 
and  said,  in  alarm,  to  J\Ir.  De  Vcre  : 

"If  you  please,  sir,  1  couldn't  stop  her! — she  would 
come.     1  didn't  intend  to  let  her  in — "' 

"  Leave  the  room !"  interrupted  Mr.  De  Vere,  wav- 
ing his  hand. 

The  man  vanished,  glad  to  get  the  door  between 
him  and  the  fierce  intruder;  and  Grizzle,  folding  her 
arms  over  her  breast,  regarded  them  with  her  dark,  evil 
sneer. 

" '  Well,  most  potent,  grave  and  reverend  seignors,' 
and  ladies,  too,"  she  said  ;  "  so  you  had  it  all  settled  to 
arrest  old  Grizzle  Ilowlet  and  her  sons,  and  clap  them 
into  prison,  and  then  hang  them  for  robbery  and  mur- 
der? What  a  pity  so  elaborate  a  scheme  should  end  in 
smoke,  as  so  many  other  scheme-^  have  done  before !" 

"  Is  the  woman  mad  i"  said  Mr.  De  Vei*e,  astounded, 
"  to  come  here  like  this,  knowing  her  guilt ;  for  such 
an  act  is  certainly  the  very  climax  of  madness !" 

*' '  No  ;  I  am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus,  but  speak 
the  words  of  sober  reason,'  as  you  shall  soon  11  nd  to 
your  cost.  What  would  you  say  to  me,  if  1  were  to 
tell  you  that  you  will  not  only  let  me  go  forth  free,  but 
safe  from  your  interference  from  henceforth^'" 

"  You  will  soon  luive  my  ansu'er,''  said  Mr.  De  Vere, 
seizing  the  bell-ro])e  and  ringing  a  violent  peal, 

"  Call  your  servants  as  fast  as  you  like,"  said  the 
woman,  with  a  look  of  contempt ;  "  l)ut  before  they,  or 
you,  lay  a  iinger  on  me,  I  must  and  will  have  a  word 
with  that  young  lady  there  !"  And  she  jwinted  to  Au- 
mista,  who  stood  remirdiuff  her  with  minii;led  horror  and 
loathing. 

"  We  will  see  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Vere,  calmly. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  the  woman,  raising  her  arm  and 
speaknigwith  a  sort  of  passionate  earnestness,  "it  will 


TUE     SECRET. 


81 


be  better  for  yoii  if  yon  do! — until  the  very  Hay  of 
your  death  you,  and  all  who  bear  your])roud  name,  will 
rue  it  if  you  do  not!  Listen  to  nie,la(ly — you  who 
stand  thei'e  so  queenly  in  your  haui:;hiy  pride  and  8i  oru 
— it  will  be  better  for  you  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say ; 
for  I  have  your  secret  and  another  besides,  that  you 
ought  to  have  known  long  before  this." 

A  frightl'ul  paleness  overspread  the  haughty  face  of 
Augusta,  and,  with  a  faint  cry,  she  caught  and  steadied 
herself  by  a  chair.  As  she  did  so,  the  door  opened  and 
a  servant  a})peared. 

"  Papa,  let  me  hear  her  !  Send  the  man  away  !  I 
must  hear  her,  papa  1"  she  said,  wildly,  taking  a  step  to- 
wards her. 

"Nonsense,  Augusta!"  said  her  father,  sharply. 
"  Hear  her,  indeed  !  the  old  inij)ostor!  Keyuolds,  go 
and  bring  William  and  James  here." 

The  servant  disai)i)eared,  and  old  Grizzle,  folding  her 
cloak  closer  about  her,  sat  down,  with  lier  evil,  sneering 
smile. 

"Very  well — be  it  so,  then.  I  will  go  to  prison; 
and  the  very  day  1  do,  your  secret,  Augusta  Do  Vere, 
shall  be  blown  by  the  four  winds  of  lleaven  over  all 
the  land! — and,  what's  more,  another  secret  that  1 
came  here  to-day  to  tell  you — one  that  you  would  give 
the  broad  lands  of  Fontelle  to  hear.     Itememberthat!" 

"Oh,  I  must  hear  her!  1  must,  papa!"  cried 
Augusta,  gasping  for  breath,  and  looking  ready  to 
faint. 

It  was  strange  to  see  the  calm,  the  stately,  the 
liaughty  Augusta  Dc  Vere  moved  like  this.  In  all 
liis  lite  her  father  had  never  seen  anything  like  it 
before  ;  and  now  he  gazed  upon  her  thunderstruck. 

"  In  Heaven's  name  what  is  the  meaning  of  this, 
Augusta?  What  secret  id  this  wretched  old  woman 
talking  about  ?" 

"Oh,  I  cannot  tell  you!  I  dare  not  tell  you!  but 
I  must  hear  her!"  exclaimed  Augusta,  distractedly,  as 
she  went  over  and  stood  close  beside  the  woman. 


■1 


J : 


J 


'i 


82 


TUE     SECRET. 


li\ 


l.'i'K 


%, 


"  I  must  tell  you  in  private,"  said  (xrizzle,  looking 
around. 

''  You  nnisf  not  leave  the  room !"  said  Mr.  De 
Verc,  sternly.  ''  Jaetjuel ta,  tell  the  servants  to  wait, 
and  turn  the  key  in  the  door  and  let  this  farce  end !"' 

JacMjuetta,  looking  astonished  and  bewildered, 
obeyed. 

"Don't  listen,  then!  Stand  oft'!"'  said  Grizzle, 
with  an  ani;;ry  wave  of  her  hand.  "  A  De  Vere 
shoidd  not  be  an  eavesdropper.  (.'onie  over  here, 
young  lady,"  she  said,  taking  Augusta  by  the  arm,  and 
leadiiig  her  over  to  the  remotest  corner.  Captain 
Disbrowe  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
Jac(]uett:i  bent  over  the  table,  with  her  back  toward 
thijm,  and  Mr.  De  Vere,  looking  iingry,  astonished,  and 
Iialf-alarmed,  stood,  with  a  frowning  brow,  regarding 
them. 

So  nearly  ten  minutes  passed — dnring  which  (Irizzlc 
talked  in  a  lierce,  rajiid,  hissing  whisper,  without  once 
stopping,  and  grasping  Lady  Augusta's  arm  in  a  vise- 
like gri]>.  As  she  went  on  a  frightful  change  |iassed 
over  t'le  young  girl.  One  arm  was  half-raised,  her 
l>lanc]ied  lips  sprung,  quivering,  apart,  her  eyes  strained 
and  staring,  an  awful  darknijss,  as  if  she  were  stran- 
gling, setthng  on  her  face,  and  witli  it  a  look  of  horror 
— of  wildest,  most  unspeakable  horror — fcH. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  souuil  of  a  heavy  fall,  fol- 
lowed by  a  cry  from  (irizzle — a  sharp,  <juick  cry  uf 
alarm,  echoed  by  one  longer  and  more  passionate  tVom 
]\rr.  De  Verc.  Disbrowe  and  Jacquetta  faced  I'ound 
in  terror  to  behold  Augusta  lying  on  the  lloor,  with 
her  father  and  (irizzle  bending  over  her,  and  a  dark 
Btre!im  of  blood  sljwly  oozing  from  her  mouth. 


u 


THE     MIDNIGHT    MUSIC. 


m 


CUAPTEK    VII. 


THE   MIDNIGHT   MUS«e. 


■■•  t  'I 


**  The  midnight  hour  will  soon  be  here — 
That  ivwful  hour". 
When  graves  yawn  wide,  aiid  the  dead  occupaiiA* 
Minyle  with  eurtldy  life." 


(( 


IFT  her  up,"  said  tlie  loud,  Iwrsh  voice  of 
Grizzle;  ".she  has  rupture'i  an  artery 
-—that  iri  all." 

t?he  attempted  to  lift  her  ii*  rself,  as 
she  s})()ke,  but  Hhe  was  furiously  liurled 
back  by  Mr.  Do  Yere. 

"  Woman,  begone !  touch  her  not !"  he  cried,  in  .a 
voice  of  mingled  rage  and  anguish.  "  You  have  elaiu 
my  child  !" 

"  She  is  not  dead,  I  tell  you,"  said  Grizzle,  coolly. 
"  Rupturing  an  artery  is  a  small  affair." 

"Peace,  you  old  hag!"  said  Disbrowe,  fiercely. 
''  You  have  done  mischief  enough  now.  \\o\i  dare 
you  speak,  after  what  you  have  dune  (^" 

"Dare!"  said  Grizzli',  with  a  short  laugh;  "I 
would  dari'  as  nnu'h  as  aiiy  De  Vere  among  you,  and 
verily  yni  come  of  a  daring  race.  If  haughty  ladies," 
she  said,  ])ointing  to  tiie  still  insensible  Augusta,  "  will 
commit  ctimes— yes,  crimes  !  I  repeat  it;  so  never  start 
and  look  iierce,  my  young  soldier — crimes  tliat  even  I, 
murd(M'ess  and  all,  as  I.  am,  siiudder  to  think  of,  tlu^y 
must  suifer  the  eonsecpumces."' 

"  You  shall  sull'er  the  consequences,  you  old  mur- 
deress !"  shouted  Mr.  De  Vere,  furiously,  as  he  laid 
AugUbta  on  the  sola,  and  turned  towai'd  the  door.  ''  Py 


It 


84 


THE     MIDNIOUT    MUSIC. 


I 


\  k 


'■'"^ 


tlic  lieavons  above  us,  you  shall  never  go  free  another 
hour  for  tliLs !" 

But  the  tall  tonn  of  Grizzle  interposed  between 
lihn  and  the  door,  and  her  long,  commanding  arm 
waved  him  back. 

'*No,"  she  said,  resolutely,  lixing  her  eyes  stendy 
on  his  face;  ''yvui  shall  not  go — lor  your  own  sake, 
you  shall  not  go.  Il  is  not  that  1  bear  any  r 'gard  for 
you — it  is  not  that  I  bear  any  love  lor  one  of  your 
proud  name — it  is  not  that  I  (h)  not  hate,  from  the  very 
depths  of  my  soul,  o/Jc^  who  bears  it*' — mrI  her  lierce 
eyes  seemed,  for  an  instant,  to  blaze  with  a  red,  lui'id 
tire,  as  they  tixed  tiuMnselves  on  Jac(juetta,  who  knelt 
beside  her  sister — ''  but  for  a  reason  of  my  own,  you 
shall  not  bring  disgi'ace  on  yourself,  disgrace  on  your 
house,  disgrace  on  all  the  name  of  i)e  Verc,  as  yet. 
For  I  tell  you,  Robert  l)e  Vcre,  uncle  of  an  Engl  if  h 
peer,  as  you  are — the  haughtiest  among  England';-i 
luiughty  sons — if  this  were  known,  the  whole  world 
would  spurn  your  daughter — spurn  her  in  loathing  and 
horror;  the  very  childrciu  in  the  street  would  shrink  in 
terror  and  alfright  from  her  wherever  she  would  ap- 
j)ear.  Ivecoil  as  you  will,  grow  white  as  you  listen,  yet 
1  tell  you,  man,  as  God  hears  me,  I  speak  the  truth.'' 

There  was  an  almost  j>assionate  solemnity  in  her 
tones;  and  there  was  something  awe-ins})iring  and  ter- 
riiiein  the  weird  gesture  with  which  she  raised  her  arm 
and  ])ointed  ui)ward,  as  if  calling  Jlim  she  had  named 
to  witness  the  truth  cd"  her  words.  JMr.  Do  Vere  reeled 
as  if  he  had  been  struck  a  blow,  for  an  instant ;  then,  as 
his  eyes  fell  on  the  high,  noble  face  (»f  his  j)ror(l  daugh- 
ter— on  the  pure,  stainless,  marble-like  brow,  and  sweet, 
beautiful  li])s,  the  conviction  that  she  was  merely  l)h>y- 
ing  uiH)n  his  fears  returned;  for  the  idea  of  any  crime 
in  connection  with  that  noble-minded,  staiidess  girl,  was 
an  utter  and  most  revolting  im[)ossibility. 

"  It  is  false,  you  miserable  hag! — you  second  Jeze- 
ltd!"  he  s;iid,  furi(Hisly.  "  Dare  to  mention  my d;iii;.';Ii- 
tor's  name  in  absociaiiou  wilh  any  crime  again,  and  by 


—IP 


wtfRHwHimi^. 


THE    MrDNWIlT    MUSIC. 


85 


all  tlic  naints!  I  will  bo  tempted  to  forget  you  are  a 
woman,  and  stranpjle  you  on  the  spot !'' 

''  That  is  casior  said  than  done,"  said  Grizzle,  fold- 
ing l»er  arms,  with  a  short  laugh.  "Two  could  play  at 
that  game ;  and,  as  a  friend,  i  wouldn't  advise  you  to 
try  it  with  me." 

"My  dear  sir,''  interposed  Dishrowe,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  arm,  as  he  saw  the  storm  of  })assion  rising 
in  his  uncle's  face,  "  I  e  calm.  J)o  not  heed  her  words. 
Let  nothing  be  done  until  Augusta  recovers,  and  then 
let  lis  learn  from  her  what  mysterious  j)ower  this  \voiuau 
lias  over  her,  and  act  accordingly."' 

"  FI'i  ha  !'' said  (Jrizzle,  mockingly.  "You  think 
she  will  tell  'fou — don't  you  i  Don't  you  hopt;  she  nuiy  i 
Yes,  I  will  wait  till  she  recovers.  I  have  no  other  in- 
tention, my  handsome  young  friend,  and  you  will  'act 
accordingly.*  ( )li,  no  doubt  of  it !"  And  she  sat  down, 
with  a  short  lauij:h. 

"Shan't  f  g(?  for  a  doctor, uiuile?" said  Frank,  look- 
ing daggers  at  Grizzle.  "  And  I  can  bring  a  constable 
up  from  Green  (hvek,  at  the  same  time,  and  fix  this 
old  witch's  Hint  for  her." 

"  No,  wait,  Frank  ;  don't  go,"  said  the  voice  of  Jac- 
quetta.  "  Don't  go  yet.  Augusta  is  recovering.  Wo 
must  hear  what  she  says  before  you  go  for  any  one." 

Her  words  banished  everything  from  the  minds  of 
all  but  anxiety  for  Augusta.  All  gathered  around  her 
sofa  as  she  slowly  opened  her  hea\y,  dark  eyes,  and 
looked  dindy  around. 

"  Augusta,  darling— -my  precious  child  !  are  you  bet- 
ter?" said  her  father,  in  a  (ihoking  voice,  as  he  knelt 
down  beside  her  and  took  her  hand. 

She  passed  her  hand  in  a  vague,  lost  sort  of  way 
across  her  forehead,  as  if  trying  to  recall  something  that 
had  escaped  her  memory. 

"  I  thought — I  thought — something  happened,  papa, 
didn't  it^"  she  said,  confusedly, 

"Do  not  talk— lie  still.     You  have  hurt  yourbelf, 


i  .,  ' 


•ii: 


<  ( 


■i 


fl  > 


r>» 


86 


TUE     MWNiailT    MUSIC. 


(le;irest.  Sliall  wv  hi-ikI  lor  Ji  doctor  if'' said  Juequetta, 
solrly  kissinji;  tlu'  palo  lips. 

Tiio  wandt'iiiii::  eyes  still  roved  confusedly  around, 
and  the  ])ale  iinL;;ers  still  passed  wistfully  over  the  pale 
brow.  Grizzle  llowlet  arose  noiselessly  from  her  seat, 
and  her  tall  form  lowerinL^  upward  like  a  ^rini,  gray, 
stoiu!  statue,  at  last  arrested  the  lost,  vacant  gaze. 

Slowly  over  ihe  beautiful  face  again  settled  that 
look  of  utter,  voiceless,  awful  horror.  The  small  hands 
closed  an<l  eleneluHi  until  the  nails  pierced  the  delicate 
j)alms,  the  slight  form  grew  rigid  and  deathdike,  ami  a 
grayness  like  that  of  approaching  dissolution  crept  over 
every  feature.  Once  or  twice,  she  essayed  to  speak, 
hut  oidy  a  choking,  dying  sound  came  forth  from  her 
blanched  lips ;  and  in  the  glazing  eyes  and  colorless 
face,  over  every  other  feeling,  still  came  that  dreadful 
look  of  unutterable  horror. 

"  Augusta,  dearest !  O  heavens!  Augusta,  what  is 
the  meaning  of  this  f  gasped  Jacquetta,  in  terror. 

''()  my  (iod  !  what  have  I  done!"  came  in  a  low, 
wailing,  passionate*  cry  of  utter  despair,  from  the  white 
lips  of  Lady  Augusta. 

'"()  my  sister!  my  darling  sister  !"  cried  Jacquetta, 
wringing  her  ]>ale  lingers,  while  the  others  seemed 
unable  to  speak,  ''what  is  this^  O  Augusta!  what 
does  this  mean  r 

"What  it  would  strike  vou  dead  with  horror  to 
hear!  What  I  would  soonei' be  burnetl  at  the  stake 
than  ri'veal !  ^Vhat  will  blight  my  life,  lose  my  soul, 
consume  my  heart,  make  every  moment  of  my  life  a 
torture  such  as  you  cannot  even  conceive  of !  May 
God  grant  me  a  speedy  death  !''  she  cried,  passionately ; 
and  then,  dropping  her  upraised  arms,  she  saidc  back, 
death-like  and  collapsed. 

"Oh,  Heaven  helj)  u^  !  she  has  gone  crazy!"  said 
Jac<pietta,  still  wringing  her  ]>ale  fingers  in  the  first 
paroxysm  of  her  tei-ror  and  alarm;  while  her  father 
knelt,  with  his  face  hidden  in   hi;-  hands,  ill  speechless 


iV'       * 


THE      MIDNIGHT    MUSIC. 


87 


Ml 


rrricf ;  and  Disbrowc  and  Frank  looked  on  in  con- 
sternation. 

"  ISho  is  not  crazy,"  interrni)tcd  tlio  liarsli,  im- 
]>aticnt  voice  of  Gri/zle ;  ''she  is  as  sane  as  yon,  and 
speaks  the  truth.  Peace  !''  slie  said,  impetuously,  as 
they  would  have  interru])ted  her.  ''I  laill  speak  to 
lier,  and  end  this  scene.  Miss  Auijjusta  De  Vcre,  listen 
tome!  Ah!  I  see  yoi.'  are  doini;' it,'-  she  said,  with 
her  customary  sneer,  as  she  hchehl  the  wild,  dark  eves 
riveted,  with  a  straniije,  stony  j^lare,  to  her  face.  "  Your 
father  wants  to  ini]U'ison  me  on  suspicion  of  robhery 
and  murder,  aiid  if  he  does,  f/oit,  Inoio  the  alternative  ! 
One  word  from  yt)U  will  ellect  my  release — and — I 
await  that  woi'd  !" 

8he  folded  lier  mantle  closer  around  her  tall,  ejannt 
form,  an<l  stood  stiff  and  statue  like  in  her  usual  holt- 
uprii^ht  fashion,  waitinu^as  calmly  as  thou<4h  it  were  the 
simplest  matter  in  the  world. 

"  Fa])a  !  ])apa !  let  her  <]jo !  let  licr  go  at  once !  TNFy 
eyes  loathe  the  si«i;ht  of  her!"  cried  AuiL!;usta,  clas])ing 
her  hands  over  her  eye,  with  a  shudder  that  shook  her 
whole  frame. 

*'Let  licr  f!;o !  Never!  the  accursed  hag!"  cried 
lier  father,  starting  up.  "  She  shall  swing  fo"  what  she 
has  done,  as  sure  as  tliere  is  law  or  justice  in  the 
land !" 

"Pa])a!"  almost  shrieked  yViigusta,  half-springing  to 
her  feet,  ''you  do  not  know  what  yon  are  saying! 
Papa!  would  you  kill  nu^ '^  Oh!  let  her  go  at  once — ■ 
for  my  sake — for  your  own  sake — for  (iod'ssakr!  let 
her  go !"  she  cried,  falling  from  her  scat  prostrate  on 
the  noor  at  his  feet. 

"Augusta,  ijoitAvt  not  know  what  you  are  saying," 
said  lier  father,  almost  steridy,  as  he  raiised  her  wr^. 
''This  woman  is  a  nnird(;ress  !" 

"And  your  daughter  is  wnrsr /"'  she  ]">nssi()nately 
cried,  Hinging  herself  on  the  sofa  and  then  starting  up 
agai!i,  08  if  deranged  hy  sonu^  inward,  gnawing,  un- 
utterable pain.     "  O  saints  in   Heaven  !  wliat   will  be- 


f'An 


f] 


<1 


i' 


I; 


»   1? ' 

it 


88 


THE     MIDNIGHT    MU8IC. 


If 


t 


,(1 ' 


come  of  me?  Papa!  papa!  let  her  go,  if  you  would 
nut  see  me  de;ul  at  your  feet !" 

She  was  terrilb  to  look  at,  as  she  ];ca<"  her  clciiehed 
hand  on  her  l)reast,  and  tore  at  it  as  if  she  would  have 
plucked  out  the  unendurahle  agony  i!;nawing  there  ;  her 
eyes  starting  from  their  very  sockets ;  her  face  as  aw- 
fully wdiite  as  that  of  a  galvanized  corpse.  Even 
Jacquetta  shrank  a  step  or  two  from  her,  in  momentary 
horror. 

"Mr.  De  Yere,  and  you  all,"  cried  Grizzle,  with  one 
of  her  slow,  majestic  waves  of  the  arm,  and  in  the 
measured,  commanding  tones  she  had  formerly  nsed  on 
the  stage,  "  listen  to  me.  You  see  the  ])ower  I  have 
over  this  haughty  girl — ^  real  powcv,  for,  mark  you, 
it  is  no  imaginary  crime  she  a(!cuses  herself  of,  hut  one 
Jiat  would  curdle  your  heart's  hlood  witli  horror  to 
hear — one  so  awful  tiiat  it  is  nameless!  Yes;  so  sel- 
dom is  it  heard  of,  that  no  name  has  ever  heen  given 
to  it.  And  now,  Kobeft  De  V^ei'c,  ])r(>ud  son  of  a 
proud  sire,  as  sure  as  heaven  is  ahove  us,  if  you  do  not 
let  me  go  forth  free,  this  secivt  sin  shall  he  blown  over 
the  length  and  breadth  of  llie  land,  to  your  everlasting 
disgrace,  and  that  of  all  who  bear  your  name.  Jiefuse, 
and  vour  daughter  will  either  go  mad  or  die  at  your 
feet !  Look  at  her,  and  sec  if  she  is  not  on  the  verge 
of  madness  now  1  Consent,  and  I  will  give  you  my 
word — and,  what  is  more,  will  keep  it  too — never  to 
molest  any  traveler  or  wayfarer  who  may  stop  at  my 
liouse  again — never!  I  confess  tJiere  was  one — but 
only  one — we  robbed  and — silenced:  and  it  is  true  that 
this  nephew  of  yours  might  have  shared  the  same  fate, 
but  for  something  like  a  ])rovidential  interposition — if 
one  believed  in  such,  things.  But  let  me  go  free,  and 
1  faithfully  promise  to  keep  your  daughter's  secret,  and 
never  to  molest  any  one  again.  Refuse  me,  and  it  will 
bo  at  your  i)erii !'' 

*'  Let  her  go,  for  heaven's  sake !"  exclaimed  Dis- 
browe,  "  before  you  drive  your  daughter  insane.   What 


,!'    I 


THE     MIDNIGHT     MUSIC. 


80 


is  her  life,  or  tliat  of  a  dozen  miserable  wretelics  like 
lier,  compared  to  tluit  of  my  cousin  ?" 

Grizzle  turned  her  eyes  on  him  with  lier  sneerinej 
smile,  and  seemed  about  to  reply,  but,  whether  intimi- 
dated by  the  bright,  iieree  lii^ht  ni  the  young  soldii'rs 
eye,  or  unwilling  to  irritate  them  farther,  she  prudently 
thought  better  of  it,  ami  discreetly  held  her  tongue. 

"  Go,  then,"  said  Mr.  Do  Verc,  trembling  with  rage 
and  anguish  ;  "  and  may  Heaven's  worst  curses  go  with 
yon  !"  ^ 

Grizzle  smiled  slightly  and  bowed,  and   met  Jac- 

?uetta''s  Hashing  eye  with  a  look  of  exultant  triumph. 
Returning  it  with  one  of  nn"ngled  d'jtiance  and  disgust, 
the  young  girl  made  her  a  stern  motion  to  go,  and,  un- 
locking the  door,  held  it  open  for  her  to  pass. 

''  1  ou  wear  you?'  chains  so  gracefully,  niy  pretty 
little  dear,"  said  Grizzle,  as  she  went  out,  '4hat  I  don't 
know  any  one  better  qualilied  to  teach  your  sister  the 
virtue  ot"  resignation.  Whoever  would  imagine  you  to 
be — ichat  ymi  are  /" 

'^  liegoue  !"  exclaimed  Jacquetta,  stamping  her  foot 
passionately. 

AVith  one  of  her  short,  scornful  laughs,  so  galling 
to  listen  to,  the  woman  passed  out;  and  Jac(|uetta, 
turning  suddenly  round,  nu^t  the  eyes  of  Disbrowo 
Hxed  full  upon  her,  as  if  in  wonder  at  the  last  words. 
To  his  surprise,  her  bold,  bright  glance  fell,  and  her 
face,  a  moment  before  deadly  pale,  grew  deepest  ci-Im- 
son — crimson  to  the  verv  I'dues  ot"  her  hair — as  sho 
turned  away  and  avertevl  her  head. 

Augusta  had  thrown  iierself  on  her  face,  on  the 
sofa,  as  the  woman  went  out ;  and  now  lay  as  still  as  if 
the  speedy  death  she  had  prayed  for  had  already  niei'ci- 
fully  settled  her  agonized  hciirt-throbs. 

Tenderly  Jacquetta  bent  over  her,  and  essayed  to 
raise  her  up. 

"  Augusta,  dearest,  what  is  it?  Oh,  tell  me — tell 
your  father  !  Do  not  look  so  dreadfully  I"  she  said,  im- 
ploringly. 


I; 


[.: 


ii 


J: 


^\A 


•'. .'  «i 

f  ! 
'I 


1 1"-" 


?t 


go 


THE     MIDNIGHT    MUSIC. 


\' 

■'ff,/  ■, 

' 

"  Oh,  let  mc  go  to  my  room !  Do  not  speak  to  me, 
or  I  sliiill  die  !''  she  cried  out,  rising  up,  and  holding 
out  her  hands  before  her,  like  one  blind. 

"  Come,  then  ;  let  me  help  you,"  said  Jacquetta, 
passing  her  arm  round  her  waist. 

As  she  turned  to  obey,  lier  eye  fell  on  her  father, 
sitting  bowed  down  in  a  chair,  his  face  hidden  in  his 
liands.  Tlie  next  instant,  she  was  kneeling  at  his  feet, 
clas])ing  his  knees. 

"Papa,  dearest  papa,  speak  to  me,  your  own  Au- 
gusta !  Oh,  papa,  do  not  say  you  curse  mo  for  what  I 
have  done !" 

"  Curse  you,  my  darling  child  ?"  lie  said,  looking 
sorrowfully  up.  Oh,  Augusta,  what  have  you  done  ? 
What  is  this  you  have  done  '^" 

"Oh,  papa,  do  not  ask  me!"  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
dying,  despairing  voice.  "  It  would  kill  you  to  know  ! 
Only  say  that,  if  ever  you  do  hear,  if  ever  it  is  known, 
you  will  not  curse  the  memory  of  your  miserable  child, 
who  will  not  live  long  to  grieve  you  now." 

"  Oh,  Augusta,  hush  !  What  are  you  saying !" 
whis])ered  Jacquetta,  raising  her  up.  "  Conic  with  me 
— come  to  your  room." 

"  Only  say  that,  papa !  dearest,  kindest  papa !  only 
say  that  you  will  never  curse  the  memory  of  your 
wretched  daughter!"  pleaded  Augusta,  sinking  lower 
and  lower  at  his  feet. 

"My  dear  child,  I  never  will.  God  bless  you! 
Go,"  he  said,  putting  one  trembling  hand  up  before 
his  face. 

Slie  arose,  slowly  and  heavily,  and  suffered  Jac- 
quetta to  lead  her  from  the  room. 

And  Mr.  De  Yere,  with  his  face  averted  and  hidden 
by  his  hand,  sat  perfectly  still,  his  drooping  head  and 
the  heaving  of  his  strong  chest  alone  betokening  his 
emotion.  Disbrowe,  lost  in  wonder,  stood  looking  out 
of  the  window  on  the  deepening  night;  and  Frank, 
though  he  would  have  been  inclined  to  knock  any  one 
down  who  would  have  ventured  to  insinuate  sucli  a 


THE     MIDHIGHT    MUSIC. 


91 


tiling,  stood  winking  both  eyes  at  onee,  very  hard,  and 
tlie  trees  before  the  window  looked  crooked,  as  if  seen 
thronu::!!  tears. 

Presently  Jaoquctta  returned,  and  coming  over  to 
Disbrowe,  touched  him  lightly  on  the  arm.  lie  looked 
down  in  her  pale,  grave  face — so  diHerent  from  the 
sparkling,  animated  countenance  of  the  morning — and 
waited  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  1  am  sure.  Captain  Dis- 
browe," she  said,  hurriedly,  ''  after  what  you  have  seen 
and  heard,  if  I  suggest  the  propriety  of  your  retiring 
at  once.  You  will  not  Und  any  of  ns,  I  am  afraid, 
very  entertaining  companions  to-night ;  and,  besides, 
you  must  be  tired  after  your  journey." 

"  Most  certainly,"  said  iDisbrowe,  cordially.  "  I 
was  about  to  ask  permission  to  retire,  as  a  favor.  T 
hope  Miss  Augusta  will  be  better  tomorrow.  No ; 
don't  ring.     I  can  lind  my  room  myself.    Good-night." 

And  lie  was  gone. 

Very  cheerful  did  his  pleasant  room,  with  its  bright 
fire,  look  that  evening,  chill  with  the  raw,  wintry  Ijlasts 
of  early  April.  The  dark,  oaken  wainscotting  sparkled 
and  shone  in  the  ruddy  light  of  the  lire,  and  the  stars 
O'l  the  walls  and  ceiling  were  fairly  blinding  in  their 
glancing  brightness.  Ihit,  brightest  of  all  still,  was  the 
pictured  face  that  smiled  down  on  him  from  over  the 
mantel — that  bright,  piquant,  coquettish  little  face,  so 
dilTerent  from  tlie  dark,  grave  one  he  had  seen  it  a 
moment  before. 

He  drew  an  arm-chair  close  up  to  the  fire,  and  sat 
down ;  and,  with  his  boots  elevated  on  the  fender,  a 
cigar  between  his  lips,  his  handsome  head  leaning 
against  the  cushions,  and  his  lu'ight,  bold,  dark  eyes 
fixed  intently  ujioii  it,  he  Vvj  and  watched.  Fittully 
that  witching  little  face  smiletl  u])on  him  from  betwee!i 
the  blue  curling  wreaths  of  scented  vapor,  and,  as  ho 
watched  it,  a  curious  sinde  broke  over  his  face,  as  if  in 
answer.  A  curious,  musing  smile,  that  seemed  to  say  : 
*'  1  wonder  if  I  could  make   the  original  smile  on  mo 


■  u 


* 


1 

1    '     . 

1    1 

u 

1  ^ 

M 

I 


f 


'  1 

I 


I" 


93 


THE     MlDNIGJir    MUSTC. 


liko  tliat,  if  I  were  to  try.'"  lie  i^lanced  with  tliat  same 
inexplicable  look  in  the  full-length  mirror,  and  the  tall, 
graeefiil  ligure,  the  bold,  liandsome  face,  with  its  cluster- 
ing locks  of  rich  brown  hair,  and  dark,  bright,  hand- 
some eyes,  were  certainly  not  likely  to  contradict  the 
idea.  There  was  nothing  of  the  fop  in  that  look,  how- 
ever ;  and  the  next  moment  the  smile  was  gone,  the 
cigar  in  the  lire,  and,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he 
was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  and  whistling  '*  Hear 
me,  Norma." 

Then  he  thought  of  this  other  proud,  stately  cousin 
of  liis,  this  haughty  Lady  Augusta,  this  "  true  l)e 
Vere,"  and  ev^ry  other  i'eeling  was  merged  and  lost  in 
wonder  ;  and  the  Honorable  Alfred  Disbrowe  began  to 
cogitate  whether  he  had  not  got  among  a  lot  of  escaped 
lunatics  by  s(jme  mistake  or  other.  Then  he  thought 
of  old  Grizzle  ilowlet,  and  her  strange  power  ;  and  of 
this  mysterious  secret  and  hidden  crime;  and  became 
shocked,  and  revolted,  and  unbelieving  at  the  thought 
of  crime  with  this  ju-oud,  noble-looking  girl.  Then  ho 
thought  of  the  singularly  beautiful  Spanish  boy  he  had 
seen,  the  "little  brigand,"  as  he  inwardly  termed  him, 
and  became  puzzled  once  more — for  something  about 
him  was  strangely  yet  unaccountably  familiar.  Then 
he  tliought  ot  Captain  Nick  Tempest,  and  of  his  singu- 
lar and  undetinable  resemblance  to  Jacquetta  ;  and  that 
brought  his  thoughts  ba(;k  to  where  they  had  started 
from.  And  resuming  his  seat  and  his  former  position, 
he  lit  another  cigar,  leaned  backhand,  for  over  an  hour, 
Si'tthere  and  watched  that  portrait  without  once  remov- 
ing his  eyes. 

At  last  he  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  it  was 
beginning  to  grow  late,  and  that  he  was  both  tired  and 
sleepy  ;  and  rising  with  a  yawn,  he  bade  a  sort  of  men- 
tal good-night  to  his  silent  companion,  prepared  for 
bed,  protested  in  confidence  to  himself  that  the  said  bed 
was  like  some  old  tomb,  threw  himself  upon  it,  and  in 
ten  iTiinutes  was  sound  asleep. 

Hours  passed  ;  the  night  wore  on  ;  the  lire  flickered 


THE     MIDNIGUT    MUSIC. 


03 


and  smoldered  fitfully  ;  and  still  he  slept.  All  was 
silent  as  the  ^rave  through  the  vast  iiiansiuii,  when  su<l- 
denly,  with  a  strange;  start  and  a  slioek,  and  a  feeling  as 
if  a  strong  hand  was  on  his  throat,  he  sprang  up  in  bed 
— awake  ! 

There  was  a  sound  in  the  air  ;  the  sound  of  music, 
soft,  sweet,  and  far  oil".  He  awoke  hewihlered,  and 
](toked  around,  at  a  loss  to  know  wliere  he  was.  The 
lire  sent  out  a  sudden  jet  of  red  tiame,  and  it  fell 
bright  and  livi(l  on  the  pi'jtured  face;  and  it  seemed  to 
liim,  as  lie  lookc!  \ip,  that  the  eyes  were  alive,  and 
glan.'d  fiercfly  and  redly  down  u])()Ji  him,  with  a  weird 
unearthly  look.  The  sight  restored  memory;  but  still 
— was  lie  waking  or  dreaming? — the  air  was  full  of 
music  yet. 

He  sat  up  and  listened  breathlessly.  Such  music  as 
it  was,  in  the  dead  silence  of  the  lonesome  midnight! 
Soft,  low,  and  inexpressibly  sweet ;  now  dying  away 
in  a  faint,  wailing  cry,  like  a  voice  in  pain ;  now  rising 
softly  and  sweetly  as  an  angel  voice  ;  and  anon  swelling 
out  high,  grand,  and  sublime,  like  the  notes  ot"  a  tri- 
umphal march,  till  the  listener's  heart  bounded  in  time, 
and  every  pulse  leaped  as  if  he  had  been  a  Frenchman, 
listening  to  the  Marvseillaise.  Still  he  heard  it,  now 
high,  now  low,  now  wild  and  agonized,  now  soft,  j)lain- 
tive,  and  sweet,  now  swelling  high  and  grand,  with  one 
vast  thundering  crash,  and  again  dying  away  in  a  low, 
sobbing  sound— '^s  of  a  strong  heart  in  strong  agony. 
Oh,  never  was  e.  idy  music  like  that!  Kntranced,  en- 
raptured, he  sat  and  listened,  dindy  wondering  if  the 
heavens  had  opened,  and  those  were  angel  voices  ho 
heard,  chanting  once  again  the  old,  sublime  strains : 
''  Peace  on  cartli,  and  good-will  to  men." 

It  died  away  at  last — died  away  in  along,  shuddering 
echo — its  faint  burden  shivering  with  })ain  ;  and  then 
the  silence  of  the  grave  reignc^d.  For  hours  he  sat 
listening,  straining  his  hearing  to  catch  the  faintest 
Bound ;  but  nothing   met   the  ear  but  the  melancholy 


i 

< 

HI 


ii.  < 


J 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


If:  iM 

I. 


1.4 


M 

M 

1.6 


om 


/A 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^^ 


\^ 


^ 


\ 


\\ 


% 


'^A 


o^ 


% 


■x? 


<^ 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


€f. 


94 


THE     MIDNIGHT    MUSIC. 


'1^ 


6i<^hing  of  tlie  ni^lit-wliid  around  the  old  house,  with  a 
sound  inexpressil)!;/  dreary, 

Wliere  had  that  stran^jje  music  come  from?  Not 
from  tlie  inhabited  part  of  tlie  house — for  that  was  to 
liis  ri^jfht.  And  when  tlic  excitement  liad  (Ued  away, 
and  he  ccuhl  caiudy  reliect  up<jn  it,  he  felt  positive 
this  liad  issued  from  the  leftwini;' — the  old,  liall'-ruini'd, 
deserted,  noi'thern  part  of  the  huildinn;.  Of  all  the 
strange  and  unaccountable  thiiii^s  that  had  puzzled  him 
within  the  last  four-a!id-twenty  hours,  this  seemed  the 
Btran<^est  and  most  unaccountable  of  all. 

A^ain  a  red  lambent  llame  shot  out  from  the  dying 
fire,  luid  liovered  like  a  glory  around  the  pictured  face 
on  the  wall;  and  it  seemed,  to  his  excited  fancy,  that 
there  was  exultation  in  the  eyes,  and  derision  in  the 
smile,  as  though  */w  held  the  secret  and  scolfed  at  his 
ignoi'ancc.  Tired  out  !it  last  with  watching,  he  again 
Jay  down,  and  dreamed  undisturbed  of  music,  and 
Jac(pietta,  and  handsome  ISpanirth  boys,  and  little  ellish 
girls,  and  old  witches  twenty  feet  high,  until  the  lirst 
morning  sunbeam  pee])ed  through  the  star-curtained 
oriel  window,  and  fell  lovingly  and  warmly  as  a 
mother's  kiss  on  the  closed  lids  of  the  young  English- 
man's dark  eyes. 


TMm 


THE     VENDETTA. 


96 


CHAPTER  VIU. 


THE      V  E  N  I)  E  T  T  A. 


■I 


U    ( 


Then  surely,'  said  tlio  lady's  knight, 
'  On  eartli  I  may  not  be, 
Sincu  never  was  there  mortal  wight 
Heard  such  sweet  melody.'  "—Old  Ballad. 

HE  8U11  was  liigli  in  the  licaveiis  ere  Captain 
-Djsbrowc  awoke;  and  sprin^iiiip  nj),  he 
lei&nrely  ben^an  to  dress,  rnniiiiatii?^  still  on 
the  unaeconntahle  incidents  of  the  preeed- 
.  i'li,'  night.  Jjnt  all  his  ruminations  ended 
by  leaving  luni  more  ])erplexed  than  ever;  aiid  the 
face  on  the  wall,  at  which  he  glanced  at  intervals 
smiled  serenly,  and  snggested  nothing  to  help  him  out 
o±  his  diliicnlty. 

"Upon  iny  sonl,  I  believe  1  have  got  into  an  en- 
chanted castle  "  he  muttered,  tying  his  cravat  criti- 
cally. '  Ihe  Castle  of  ( )tranto  couldn't  Jiold  a  candle 
toit,  and  It  beats  the  'Mysteries  of  Udolpho'  all  to 
sticks !  How  remarkably  fond  of  music  any  one  nnist 
be  who  will  get  out  of  their  comfortable  bed  in  the 
dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night' to  serenade  the 
bats  and  owls  in  that  old  tower,  or  whatever  they  call 
It!  U  el  ,  every  one  to  their  taste;  and  that  ivmiiids 
nie  that  i  should  feel  obliged  to  any  one  who  would 
mtorin  me  whether  that  face  is  ])retty  or  not— for 
n]>on  my  word  and  honor,  1  can't  decide."  ' 

«o  saying,  the  Honorable  Alfred   left   his  room* 
and,  lininmmg  the  fag-end  of  a  tune,  ran  down  stairs' 
passed   through  the   hall,  and  out  of  the  front-door 
which  lay  open  to  admit  the  breezy  morning  air  and 
bright  Bunshine. 


96 


THE     VENDETTA. 


WW 


ii,. 


^'  n 


% 


It  was  a  pleasant  prospect  wliieli  met  liis  eye  tliat 
jocund  spriniij  morning.  Away  out  before  liini  spread 
the  broad,  windini^  av(?nne  of  shadowy  maples,  jnst 
bci^inniiig  to  don  their  bright  spring  dress ;  and,  fartlier 
still,  lay  the  road,  with  a  dense  primeval  pine  forest 
bovmding  tlic  view.  On  either  side  lay  the  broad  lields 
and  smooth  meadows  of  Fontelle,  and  away  behind 
stretched  out  the  faint  outline  of  blue,  shadowy  hills, 
dying  out  in  the  bluer  sky.  The  air  was  balmy  with 
the  faint  odor  fioni  the  pine-forest,  and  rang  and  re- 
sounded with  the  blithe  voices  of  numberless  birds,  up 
and  hard  at  work  for  the  day. 

AVhile  the  young  guardsman  stood  leaning  negli- 
gently against  the  vast  stuccoed  pillars  that  supported 
the  massive  doorway,  he  heard  a  footstep  behind  him, 
and  the  next  moment  Frank  a])peared,  bright  and 
cheery. 

"llallo!  Up  already ?"  was  his  salutation.  "Nice 
morning,  ain't  it'^" 

Captain  Disbrowe  glanced  at  the  bright  sky  and 
brighter  sun ;  and  not  being  able,  consistently  with 
truth,  to  deny  the  fact,  admitted  that  it  was  rather  a 
nice  morning. 

"IJeats  your  English  climate  slightly — don't  it?" 
Baid  Frank.  "  Kain,  and  drizzle,  and  mud  ;  and  then 
mud,  and  drizzle,  and  rain,  by  way  of  a  change.  Ugh  ! 
1  wouldn't  be  paid  to  live  in  such  a  place  at  any  price!" 

"  Which  is  England's  loss,  if  she  only  knew  it," 
said  Disbrowe,  lazily;  "  but  we  have  a  glimpse  of  sun- 
shine there  occasionally,  my  young  friend — on  the 
kin*»:'s  birthdav,  and  the  festival  of  ISt.  Geortj-e  and  the 
JJragon,  and  other  national  feasts;  so  it's  not  altogether 
so  overwheh.ninij:  and  knock-down  a  siii"ht  t^:-  me  to  see 
the  sun  as  you  might  supj)ose.  Where  arc  the  rest? 
Everything  was  so  still,  1  thought  none  of  you  were 
up." 

"Up!"  said  Frank,  like  an  echo.  "Doesn't  Jack 
always  beat  the  sun,  and  be  up  and  doing  an  hour  be- 
fore he  has  the  faintest  idea  of  ronsiuff  himself  for  his 


THE     VEXDETTA. 


97 


day's  labor  i  I  guess  so  !  And  now  slic's  ofT  over  tlie 
hills  on  horseback,  and  has  most  likely  cljarcd  fomic 
dozen  miles  bel'ore  this.  As  I'or  jndging  l)y  the  still- 
ness, this  house  always  goes  considerably  ahead  of  the 
Palace  of  Silence,  or  the  iJead  ISca,  or  any  other  mnto 
and  solemn  old  tonib,  J  Ihitter  myself,  in  that  arti(;le." 

"Indeed!  By  the  way,"'  said  iJisbrowc,  carelessly, 
"is  all  the  building  inhabited — I  mean  do  the  family 
occupy  the  whole  of  it  C 

"Oh,  no  I — not  near.  That  old  north  wing  over 
there — isn't  it  dismaldooking^ — hasn't  been  ocicupied 
for  the  last  twenty  years  or  more.  You  see,  it  was 
built  us  near  like  iM^ntelle  Park  iss  possible,  but  it  wasn't 
convenient  in  the  old  style;  and  though  it  suited  J'^ng- 
land  well  en'jugh,  it  didn't  pay  in  America,  'i'he 
swallows  built  their  nests  in  the  chimneys,  and  they 
smoked  like  fury,  and  the  roof  leaked  in  wet  weather, 
and  the  windows  were  small  and  dark,  and  the  rooms 
were  large  and  gloomy,  with  oak  wainscottings  ;  and, 
altogether,  it  was  a  dismal  old  l)arn  as  ever  was.  So 
Uncle  Jiob  had  the  southern  wing  l)uilt  ;  and  that,  with 
the  right  half  of  this  middle  part,  is  all  we  occupy." 

"Ah  !  "  said  Disbrowe,  thoughtiully,  "  and  you  are 
quite  sure — " 

"  I'm  quite  sure  that's  Jack,"  cut  in  Fraidv  suddenly. 
"There  she  goes !  Ain't  she  a  ti[)-top  rider  ^  J^ook 
at  that — now  watch  her  clear  that  fence  I" 

A  high  fence,  with  a  sharp,  spiked  top,  was  right 
in  the  way  of  the  lider,  as  she  came  sweeping  down, 
mounted  on  a  splendivl  black  Arabian — a  Iciice  that 
would  have  made  even  the  hnished  rider,  Captain  Dis- 
browe, mounted  on  his  su[)erb  Saladin,  pause  ;  but  it 
stopped  not  the  course  of  the  spirited  little  equestrian, 
who  came  dashing"  alonu-.  iJackinu'  her  horse  for  the 
leap,  over  it  she  dashed,  in  splenditl  style;;  and  then 
rela.xing  into  a  trot,  she  and)led  up,  and  lifting  her 
eyes,  saw  the  two  spectators. 

"Good  morning,  Ca])tain  Disbrowe,"  she  said, 
touching    her   plumed    riding-hat,   gallantly.      "Why 


uf 


.1! 


ill 

1-1 

itf 


I 


H    i 


98 


THE     VENDETTA 


didn't  you  get  up  and  take  a  gallop  witli^  me  over  the 
liills  this  bright  morning  for  the  heneiit  of  jour  health 
and  appetite,  instead  of  lying  lazily  in  bed  ^  Oli,  I 
forgot !''  she  added,  ^vith  a  chancy  glance  and  a  light, 
breezy  laugh,  as  she  sprang  olf.  ''  Vou  are  a  true- 
born  Englishman,  and  fond  of  ereature-eomforts  and 
taking  your  ease.     Here,  Williaui,  lake  my  horse." 

"  Not  so  fond  of  either,  j\lis3  Jacrpietta,''  he  said, 
piqued  at  her  look  and  tone,  ''  but  that  J  would  gladly 
have  given  both  up  for  a  ride  with  my  charming  little 
cousin,  if  1  had  known  it  in  time." 

"  Well,  mind  for  the  future  ;  for  I  don't  intend  to 
take  compliments,  or  any  small  coin  of  the  sort,  in 
return  for  a  want  of  gallantry.  1  hope  you're  a  })retty 
good  rider,  Cousin  Alfred,  and  won't  mind  risking 
your  neck  now  and  then  over  the  mountains — or  else 
it  will  never  do  for  you  to  ride  with  me," 

"  Who  would  not  I'isk  his  neck,  my  fairy  s})rite,  for 
the  sake  of  attendini!;  you  ^  NVho  could  wish  for  a 
fairer  death  than  meetino:  it  in  the  sei-vice  of  so  bewitch- 
ing  a  mountain  queen  'i  Ah  I  wouldn't  i  risk  my  neck 
joyfully,  it  1  thought  it  would  draw  one  tear  from 
you,"  said  Disbrowe,  in  a  tnock-heroic  strain. 

"  Upon  my  word,  then,  1  don't  think  it  would," 
said  Jaccpietta,  conq)osedly.  '*  I'm  not  given  to  crying 
much  myself,  as  a  genei'al  thing ;  and  when  1  do,  it's 
only  for  sensible  ])e(>})le ;  and  1  consider  that  any  one 
who  would 'risk  liis  neck  joyfully'  just  to  make  one 
drop  a  tear  would  be  (to  draw  it  mild)  an  unmitigated 
donkey.     Islow,  there !" 

!She  sprang  up  beside  him  as  she  spoke ;  and  snatch- 
ing olf  her  iiat,  began  swinging  it  by  the  strings.  D'ib- 
browe  met  her  briglit,  saucy,  deliant  glance,  and  at  last 
decided  that  she  was  pretty.  Ves,  Jac(pietta  De  Vere 
was  undeniahly  pretty,  and  looked  her  very  best  at  that 
moment.  The  snudi,  .straight,  lithe  tiguro  was  set  otf  to 
perfection  by  the  close-litting,  dark- blue  riding-habit: 
the  gray  eyes  were  Hashing  and  sparkling  like  twin 
Btars ;  the  Bliort,  red,  silky  curls  danced  and  glittered 


?r' 


THE     VEX  [)  ETTA. 


90 


in  spiral  riii»ys  around  the  wliito,  polii^lietl,  ])oyisli  fore- 
head;  tlie  elieeks  were  like  spritii;  roses,  and  the  iiiirth- 
fnl  ghmce  and  nioeking  smile  were  the  livin/i;  reality  (»f 
tlic  picture.  Ureezj'  and  brio;ht  she  stood  there,  every 
saucy,  pieplant  feature  of  her  piquant  little  face  spark- 
ling with  youth,  life,  beauty,  and  an  exultant  sense  of 
freedom,  reminding  him  of  some  half-tamed  thing — 
some  shy,  wild,  tierce,  young  (\iglet.  dangerous  to  touch 
too  closely;  the  least-dignilieii  De  \'ere  he  had  ever 
seen,  perhaps;  but  cei'talnly  the  most  bewitching. 
Not  a  trace  of  last  night's  grave  trouble  remained ;  and 
Disbrowe  scarcely  knew  whether  the  whole  thing  was 
not  part  of  a  di*eam. 

"  ]^y  the  way,"  said  Jaccpietta,  slapping  her  gaiter 
with  her  riding-whip,  and  giving  him  a  merry  glance. 
"  I  made  a  conquest  this  morning." 

"  Well,  that  is  nothing  wonderful — is  it,"  said  Dis- 
browe,  "  for  you,  who  have  only  to  see  to  conquer?" 

"Ah,  to  be  sure  !  1  never  thought  of  that.  See 
what  it  is  to  have  a  long  head.  l>ut  this  was  something 
unusual — something  to  be  proud  of.  Oh,  gracious! 
wasn't  he  a  darling !" 

"  AVhat  was  it  V  said  Disbrowe.  "  A  grizzly  bear, 
or  a  catamount,  or  a  man-monkey  'i  1  don't  see  what 
else  you  could  very  well  meet  in  these  savage  regions." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Jacquetta,  indignantly.  "  J  t  was  the 
most  splendid-looking  little  foreigner— oh  my  !  ())i ! 
such  eyes,  such  features,  such  a  superb  little  form,  such 
dainty  hands  and  feet,  such  linir!" — and  Jacquetta 
shook  her  own  curly  head  till  its  red  I'inglets  glanced 
again — "and  such  a  dress  !  Good  gracious  !  And  then 
the  way  he  dotfed  his  plumed  cap  and  made  mc  such  a 
courtly  bow,  was  a  sight  to  see,  not  to  hear  of.  Oh, 
the  little  darling !"  said  Jacquetta,  going  oil  into  a  small 
rapture. 

"  Why,  it  must  have  been  the  little  brigandish  for- 
eigner 1  met  at  the  ]\lermaid  inn,"  said"  Disbrowe. 
"Where  did  you  see  him  C 

"Taking  a  stroll  over  the  hills,  and  I  have  not  the 


^\u 


:i  .1 

•  i 


fi'  -,. 


I 


100 


rilK     VENDETTA. 


M      T 


fiiintcst  symptom  of  a  lioart  loft  ever  since,"  said  Jac- 
qiictta. 

'•  How  I  wish  1  were  liim  !"  said  Di^•browe,  siirliinjij. 

'•  Well,  you're  not  him,  you  see!  Oh!  1  forgot  to 
ask  you  how  did  you  rest  last  night — pretty  liostess, 
ain't' ir 

"  Very,"  said  DIsbrowe,  emphatically,  and  looking 
unutterable  things;  but  Jacquetta  only  laughed;  '"and 
1  rested  very  well,  thank  you ;  but  there  was  rather  a 
singular  thing  happened  about  midnight." 

'^' Indeed  !  what  was  it  i"  said  Jacquetta,  with  a 
start,  and  fixing  her  bright  eyes  full  npon  him. 

"A  very  pleasant  incident,  but  rather  unaccount- 
able— the  sou^d  of  music,  the  strangest,  sweetest, 
wildest  strains  1  ever  heard,  and  seemingly  issuing  from 
yonder  deserted  part  of  the  building.  What!  good 
heavens  !  have  I  frightened  you,  my  dear  cousin  i  Vou 
arc  fainting." 

"  JS'o,  1  am  not ;  it  is  nothing,''  she  gasped  ;  but,  as 
if  by  magic,  the  light  had  been  stricken  from  lier  eye, 
the  rose  from  her  cheek,  the  brightness  from  her  face, 
and  a  look,  so  white,  so  haggard,  so  shuddering,  c;une 
over  her,  that  faint  and  sick  she  grasj)ed  the  pillar  for 
support,  and  pressed  her  hand  hard  on  her  heart,  whos^e 
tunniltuous  throbbing  could  almost  be  iieard. 

(So  appalling,  so  ten'ifying,  so  instantaneous  was  the 
change,  that  JJisbrowe  was  thunderstruck.  Then,  as 
she  still  stood  holding  on  to  the  pillar,  deathly  white, 
and  shivering  thi'ough  all  her  frame,  he  caught  her  in 
his  arms,  fearing  she  would  faint  and  fall. 

The  action  seemed  to  galvani;:o  her  into  spasmodic 
life.  With  a  wild,  jarring  ci-y,  that  awoke  the  erhoes, 
she  sprang  from  his  restraining  arms,  and  held  out  her 
own  blindly,  as  if  to  keep  him  olf. 

"  Oil',  oil" !"  she  cried  passionately.  "  Touch  i.ie 
not  I" 

"  Why,  Jack !  Good  gracious,  Jack !  what  sets  you 
oH  iu  this  gale  V'  said  Frank,  in  astonishmer  t,  as  he  re- 
turned after  a  moment's  absence. 


THE     VENDETTA. 


101 


"  Nothing !  Hush  !"  Slie  grasped  Disl)i-o\vc's  arm 
with  a  convulsive  pressure,  and  made  a  motion  for  him 
not  to  speak.  At  tiiat  instant  he  saw  lier  face  white, 
and  terrilied  ;  tlie  next,  as  she  turned  it  to  Frank,  it 
was,  though  pale,  perfectly  calm  and  composed.  '•  I. 
wisli  jou  v.'ould  go  to  the  stable,  Frank,  and  see  that 
AVilliam  attends  properly  to  Lightning.  lie  has  had 
a  hiird  ride  this  morning,  and  needs  looking  after. 
Tliat's  a  good  boy." 

Frank  darted  oil,  and  Jacquetta's  face  was  averted 
for  a  moment,  as  she  gazed  after  him.  When  she 
turned  it  again  to  Disbrowe,  it  was,  though  slightly 
pale,  cool  and  composed  as  ever;  and  as  she  met  his 
astonished  glance,  she  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  I  rather  think  tlie  case  is  reversed,  and  I  have 
frightened  you,  my  good  cousin.  AVhy,  Captain  Dis- 
browe, I  would  not  liave  Frank  hear  the  story  of  that 
ghostly  music  for  any  earthly  consideration.  It  would 
be  all  over  the  country,  in  a  jiify,  that  the  house  is 
haunted.  Are  you  quite  sure  you  were  not  dreaming, 
Cousin  Alf  V 

"  Quite,"  said  Disbrowe,  brusquely. 

"  Ah !  well,  it  may  have  been  an  ^olian  harp,  or 
eomething — most  likely  it  was.  And  then  the  wind 
blew  pretty  hard  last  night.  Or  it  may  have  been  cats 
— our  Tliomas  is  musically  given,  and  entertains  a 
select  party  of  friends  every  night  in  the  corridors  of 
the  noi'th  wing.  Are  you  sure  it  was  not  the  cats, 
cousin  ?"  said  Jacquetta,  cutting  the  air  with  her  whip, 
and  again  laughing. 

"  Perfectly  sure.  Miss  Jacquetta.  Neither  my  hear- 
ing nor  ray  eyesight  deceive  me  often,"  he  replied, 
pointedly. 

"  Oh  !  don't  they  ?  Then  you  are  wider  awake,  then, 
than  the  generality  of  your  countrymen.  Perhaps 
there  are  ghosts  there,  then,  and  you  heard  the  music  of 
the  Dance  of  Death.  Ugh  !  it's  enough  to  give  one 
the  horrors  to  think  of  it !  This  ctjnies  of  building 
houses  in  the  old  EngUsh  style,   instead  of  any  decent 


li 


;  I 


,1 


102 


THE     VENDETTA. 


■l\ 


If 


r 


111 


IT 


Christian  fasliion.  I  always  heard  that  ghosts  and  rats 
were  particularly  fond  of  old  houses  ;  but  1  never  knew 
of  my  own  knowledn^e  before.  It's  lucky  you  told  mo, 
instead  of  any  weak-minded  person  with  a  belief  in  the 
HU[)ernaturaL  I>e  siu'e  you  don't  mention  it  to  any  out 
else — above  all,  to  uncle  or  Frank!'' 

The  last  words  were  accompanied  by  a  brief,  briicht 
flash  of  her  eye,  that  stiid,  as  plain  as  words  :  '"'If  you 
do  tell,  it  won't  be  well  for  you."  Captain  Disbrowe 
understood  it,  and  re))lied  l)y  a  slight  bow  and  sli^'hter 
smile  ;  and  then  said,  to  turn  the  conversation,  which 
annoyed  him  somehow,  though  he  could  scarcely  tell 
why  : 

''How  is  jVIiss  Aumista  this  morning '^" 

o  en 

"Better,  1  believe.  I  am  going  to  see  her  now;  and 
aurevo'd'  i\\\  breakfast-time,"  and  humming  a  Venetian 
barcarole,  and  still  sudnging  her  jaunty  ridingdiat  by 
the  strings,  she  tripped   lightly  away. 

Disbrowe  stood  and  watched  the  light,  small,  fairy 
figure  until  it  disa])i)eared,  more  thoroughly  puzzled 
than  he  had  ever  been  before  in  his  life. 

"  Strange,  inexplicable  girl  I"  he  mused  ;  "  who  can 
understand  her  ^  She  is  an  enigma,  a  riddle,  a  puzzle,  a 
Gordian  knot  of  tangles  and  inconsistencies.  I  wonder 
if  it  would  be  worth  the  time  and  trouble  unraveling 
said  knot,  or  if  it  would  be  altogether  safe  V 

The  same  curious  smile  that  had  dawned  on  his  face 
the  m'ght  before,  whilst  watching  her  picture,  broke 
over  ir  again,  and  once  more  ho  began  whistling  the  air 
of  "  Hear  me,  Norma,"  as  on  that  occasion,  with  the 
look  of  one  who  would  give  himself  a  reminder. 

To  the  surprise  of  Disl)rowe,  Lady  Augusta  ap- 
peared at  breakfast ;  and  save  that  her  face  was  cold  and 
lifeless  as  marble,  and  her  eves  had  a  dead,  iixed,  set- 
tied  look  of  hopeless  desj)air,  no  trace  remained  of  the 
preceding  evening's  terrible  agitation.  Mr.  De  Vero 
looked  i)ale,  and  grave,  and  troubled ;  but  Jacquetta 
appeared,  thongh  a  little-  subdued,  in  excellent  spirits, 
and  kept  up  an  unllagging  How  of  words. 


THE     VEyVL'TTA. 


103 


After  breakfast,  acoinpaiiied  by  jNIr.  De  Vere,  ho 
went  over  the  grounds  admired  the  scenery  and  the 
houses,  though  inwardly  chaiing  at  the  occupation, 
when  lie  would  much  rather  have  been  in  the  parlor 
with  Jacquetta.  Jjiit  he  was  not  doomed  to  see  much 
of  that  young  lady  that  day ;  for,  immediately  after 
dinner,  Frank  informed  him  that  she  had  ridden  olf 
somewhere  alone,  to  visit  a  sick  widow  who  lived  in  a 
cottage  among  the  hills.  And  he  furtheriiujre  leai-ned 
that  Miss  Jacxpietta  had  quite  a  long  list  of  protafafi  of 
one  kind  and  another,  from  ill-used  dogs  up  to  (with 
reverence  be  it  said)  sick  widows  and  friendless  or- 
phans. 

For  some  canse  or  another,  the  Honorable  Alfred 
Disbrowe  felt  extremely  dissatisiied  about  something. 
This  was  a  pretty  way  to  entertain  him  after  coming  all 
the  way  from  England,  riding  oif  and  leaving  him 
alone,  as  if  he  was  of  no  more  conse(]uence  than  Wil- 
liam the  hostler.  He  felt  irritated  and  chagrined;  and 
if  the  truth  must  be  told,  his  vanity  was  more  than 
slightly  wounded  by  her  high  supreme  indiiference  to 
the  handsome  ladydviller  who  hitherto  had  found  him- 
self so  irresistible. 

Having  worked  himself  into  a  pretty  severe  state  of 
misanthropy,  he  took  advantage  of  a  short  absence  on 
the  part  of  Frank,  and  resolved  to  have  a  ride  over  the 
hills  on  his  own  account.  There  was  a  remote  possi- 
bility— ^judging  from  all  he  had  heard — that  he  might 
break  his  neck ;  but  in  his  present  humor  the  idea 
rather  pleased  him  than  otherwise,  as  it  would  leave 
Jaccpietta  a  victim  to  remorse  and  black  bombazine  all 
the  rest  of  her  days  ;  so  off  he  rode,  halfdioping  ho 
might  meet  v/ith  some  direful  accident  that  would 
awaken  that  liintydiearted  piece  of  femininity  to  the 
error  of  her  ways. 

Gradually,  as  he  rode  on,  lie  fell  into  dee])  thought, 
and  suilered  his  horse  to  go  as  he  pleased.  The  events 
of  the  last  few  days  gave  him  enough  to  think  about ; 
but   in  all  his   dreams   and  cogitations,  the  image  of 


]'' 


I 


w 


104 


THE     yiJMJL'TTA. 


•■'.!■ 


Uk 


<■  n!!l 


Jacqiiettiv  ever  rose  u})peiTnost,  liaunting  liim  like  a 
wakin^jj  Jiiu^litinare.  ISometiines  ho  saw  the  little  face 
in  its  chisterii  g  red  curls;  and  the  more  he  thou^-ht  of 
lier  red  hair,  tluMiiore  he  dc^tcsted  it — niockinu^,  tannt- 
inp^,  spai-kllnij,  detiant :  sonu'tinies  he  Faw  it  pale,  grave, 
and  trouMed  ;  and  now  he  beheld  it  white,  shuddering, 
and  wild,  as  when  lie  had  told  her  of  the  mysterious 
inusic.  Hut  in  whatever  mood,  it  was  the  same  face, 
franuMl  in  red  hair  ;  and  it  blotted  out  everything  else. 

Suddenly  he  was  aroused  from  his  dreams  and 
visions  in  a  startling  way.  A  hand  clutehed  his  bridle- 
rein,  and  the  cold  muzzle  ol'  a  pistol  pointed  directly 
at  his  head. 

llii  looked  up,  as  well  he  mi_;ht,  and  found  himself 
in  a  lonely  valley,  lying  between  two  high  hills — a 
wild,  desolatedooking  s[)ot,  without  a  single  human 
habitation,  save  one  little  hut  on  the  brow  of  the  far- 
thest hill.  The  man  who  clutched  his  bridle-rein  was 
Capt:ain  JS'ick  Tempest,  and  his  upturned  face  was  the 
face  of  a  demon. 

"  So  we  have  met  again,  my  voung  friend,"  said  the 
captain.  "And  this  time  1  may  show  you  tlie  way — 
mayn't  I  ?  And  by  the  Lord  Harry !  I  will,  too,  show 
you  the  way  to  the  infernal  regions  in  double-quick 
time !" 

The  young  Englishman  was  unarmed,  and  the  full 
danger  of  his  situation  rushed  upon  him  at  once.  Alone 
in  this  lonely  place,  unarmed,  and  in  the  power  of  this 
savage  cut-throat,  whom  lie  had  made  his  mortal  enemy  ! 
Yet  it  only  had  the  effect  of  doing,  what  it  once  did  be- 
fore, making  his  handsouie  face  set  and  stern,  and  his 
nerves  like  steel. 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  Corsican  vendetta  means, 
my  haughty  English  friend  C  said  the  captain,  with  a  dia- 
cal  sneer.  "If  you  do,  then  learn  that  no  Corsican 
ever  vowed  a  more  deadly  cendetia  than  did  I  when 
you  struck  me,  or  will  keep  it  in  a  more  deadly  way. 
Look  at  that !" — he  almost  shrieked,  while  his  face  grew 
livid  and  distorted  with  passion,  as  he  pointed  to  a  raw, 


THE     VEND  ETTA. 


105 


red,  quivering  cut  across  his  face—"'  that  is  your  handi- 
work, and  if  1  was  dyiiif]^,  and  could  win  Heaven  by 
doing  it,  I  would  never  forgive  you  !  Never !  by — '' 
And  he  uttered  a  fearful  oath. 

"  I  have  not  asked  you  to,"  said  Disbrowe,  meeting 
his  ferocious  glare  steadily. 

''  No !"  lie  shouted  ;  ''  for  it  would  be  useless  !  Out 
of  this  you  will  never  stir  alive!  You  are  here,  be- 
yond all  human  help,  completely  in  my  power,  and 
your  doom  is  sealed  !'' 

He  raised  the  pistol  as  he  spoke,  but  dropped  it 
again  at  a  sound  that  startled  both  him  and  the  young 
Englislmian  :  and  both  turned  to  behold  an  unlooked- 
for  apparition. 

5* 


^^ 


4  1. 


)    s 
rut 


106 


JA  t'INTO. 


\\ 


» 


M 


if. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


JACINTO. 


'*  By  night  the  hcivvy  floors  ure  drawn, 
The  castle  stands  alone; 
But  in  the  chanibeis,  till  tlie  dawn, 
Unquiet  spirits  move." 

T  was  a  wild  crv — a  woman's  shrill  shriek, 
tiiat  had  startled  them  ;  but  looking  round 
they  saw  no  wumiui — only  the  y})anish  boy 
^^  I  Jacinto,  who  came  Hying  toward  them,  ut- 
tering cry  alter  cry,  as  no  boy  ever  did  be- 
fore. It  was  an  apparition  so  unlooked-for,  so  unex- 
pected, that  both  forgot,  for  an  instant,  what  was  to  fol- 
low— tlie  one,  his  imminent  danger,  and  the  other,  his 
demoniac  veniieance  ;  and  before  either  had  recoN'ered. 
tlie  boy  was  standing  bchide  Disbrowe,  liolding  out  lu's 
arms  before  liini,  as  it'  he  would  have  interposed  that 
frail  bai'rier  to  siiield  his  life. 

''  Spare  him — spare  him  !"  cried  the  boy,  in  pierc- 
ing accents.  "Oli,  Captain  Tempest  1  for  the  love  of 
Heaven,  spare  his  life!" 

The  young  Englishman,  taking  adv\'mtagc  of  the 
momentary  confusion,  made  an  attempt  to  wrest  the 
pistol  from  his  enemy's  grasp ;  but  the  hawk-like  eye 
of  Captain  Tempest  detected  the  motion,  and  quick  as 
lightning  he  sprang  back,  took  deliberate  aim,  and 
fired. 

With  a  mighty  shriek  of  more  than  mortal  anguish, 
Jacinto  had  ilimg  his  ai'ms  around  the  young  Guards- 
man ;  and  witli  the  momentary  start  the  cry  gave  tb.e 
rulKau,  the  bull  sped  from  its  aim.  and  the  uext  instant 


JACINTO. 


107 


the  right  arm  of  the  young  Spaniard  dropped  lifeless 
by  his  side,  and  with  a  groan  lie  sank  senseless  on  the 
ground. 

"  Villain !  demon !"  shouted  the  young  man,  mad- 
dened by  the  sight.  "  You  have  killed  him  !"  And 
in  an  instant  he  had  sprung  oft'  his  horse,  and  grasped 
CajDtain  Niek  by  the  throat  ere  he  could  draw  a  second, 
pistol  from  his  l)clt. 

With  a  fearful  oath  of  mingled  rage  and  disappoint- 
ment at  missing  his  aim,  the  captain  closed  with  his 
advei*sary,  and  a  deadly  struggle  ensued.  It  was  a 
struggle  that  w^ould  not  have  lasted  long,  for — though 
Disbrowe  had  the  advantage  of  youth  and  agility — 
Captain  Tempest  was  a  perfe<.'t  giant  in  strength,  and  he 
had  grasped  the  young  man  in  an  iron  grasj)  with  one 
hand,  whilst  with  the  other  he  tugged  at  a  huge  glisten- 
ing knife,  when  he  unexpect-edly  found  hiiiiself  seized 
from  behind  l)y  some  huge  monster,  that  held  him  as 
if  he  was  in  a  vise,  and  obliged  him  to  relax  his  hold. 

"Hold  him,  Lion!  hold  him,  my  boy  I""  exclaimed 
a  spirited  voice  at  the  san,ic  njoment.  "  That's  a  good 
dog!     Now,  then — what's  all  this  about T' 

Disbrowe  I(X)ked  up,  and  saw,  to  his  astoni.shment, 
no  other  tlian  JMi.ss  Jacquetta  De  Vere  sitting  on  her 
liorse,  and  looking  on  the  scene  as  coolly  and  com- 
posedJy  as  though  it  w'cre  a  little  tableau  got  up  for 
lier  express  amusement.  Her  horse's  hoofs  on  the  soft 
turf  had  been  noiseless;  so  they  had  not  heard  her 
approach..  Stepping  back,  Disbrowe  took  olf  his  hat, 
and  shook  back  his  clustei-inij;:  hair  oft  his  ftushed  face, 
and  glanced  around  before  speaking-  iSaladin  stood 
snorting  and  })awing  the  ground  with  terror,  at  a  little 
distance;  Jacinto  lay  on  his  face  senseless  at  his  feet, 
]iis  coat-sleeve  saturated  with  blood;  and  <Ja|ttain  iSiek 
Tempest,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  was  struggling  furi- 
ously in  the  gras])  of  a  huge,  iierce-looking  dog — who, 
with  one  eye  on  his  mistress,  was  evidently  grimly  re- 
solved to  l.iold  him  while  he  had  a  tooth  in  his  head. 

"  Well,"  sjiid  Jac(juetta,  after  a  pause,  during  which 


>  f  -1 

M 

■\\ 

'  f>f 

'M 

•  i' 


1'f 


1  I 


108 


JA  CTNTO. 


w 


'.1 


m 


15    ■»: 


M  mi 


rs 


lier  eye  liad  followed  Disbrowe's,  "•  you've  been  getting 
yourself  into  a  senipe,  1  see,  my  j^^ood  cousin.  You 
bhould  not  liave  ridden  out,  you  perceive,  until  I  was 
ready  to  go  along  and  take  care  ot  you.  Gussie,  easy, 
my  dear  sir" — to  Captain  }\\(:k  Tempest,  who  was 
writliinij  and  cursinc:  at  an  awful  rate — "'don't  swear 
60,  and  don't  struggle  in  that  way ;  for  if  the  broad- 
cloth gives  way,  j>erliaps  you  won't  lind  Lion's  teeth 
very  comfortable,  and  perhaps  I  shan't  be  able  to  keep 
him  from  cheating  the  hangman,  and  perha])s  I  won't 
try,  either!  What  is  the  matter.  Cousin  Alfred,  and 
who  is  this  lying  on  the  ground  '(  Why,  he's  wounded  ! 
Good  heavens !  has  he  l)een  shot  i" 

She  leaped  oil"  her  horse  as  she  spoke,  and  bent 
over  Jacinto,  as  IHsbr-'we  knelt  down  and  raised  hini 
in  his  v.rms.  The  l)eautiful  face  was  cold  and  still  as 
marble,  and  the  lips  were  blanched  to  a  deadly  white- 
ness. The  wounded  arm  hung  heavy  and  lifeless  by 
liis  side,  and  his  head  fell  over  Disbrowe's  arm  as 
though  he  were  in  reality  dead. 

''  Oh,  cousin !  is  he  dead  ^''  cried  elacquetta,  falling 
on  her  knees  beside  him. 

"iS'ot  dead,"  said  Disbrowe,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
head,  which  still  lluttered  faintly  ;  ''  not  dead,  but  in  a 
Bwoon  ;  and  his  arm  is  shattered,  1  greatly  fear." 

"  Oh,  poor  boy — poor  boy  !"  said  Jaccpietta,  sorrow- 
fully.    ''  Oh,  cousin  !  who  had  the  heart  to  do  thisf 

'*  That  monster  there  !  May  Heaven's  worst  curses 
lighten  him!"  exclaimed  Disbrowe,  tiercely.  "Where 
oral  Ave  bring  xiim,  Jac(pietta'^  Something  must  be 
done  innnediately." 

"Bring  him  to  Fontelle — there  is  no  other  place 
where  he  can  be  brought,  and  it  is  not  more  than  two 
miles  from  this.  J^il't  him  before  you  on  your  horse, 
and  ride  fast.  Bur  tell  me  how  it  hap])ened.  Did  this 
man  intend  nnirdering  him  i" 

"  No — no.  lie  intended  to  murder  me ;  and  this 
poor  boy,  in  his   eil'ort  to  save  my  life,  received  the 


J  A  ciyro. 


109 


ball  meant  for  me,"  said  Dishi'owc,  as  lie  raised  the 
almost  lifeless  and  litril)er  form  in  his  arms. 

"What  a  beautiful  face!"  exclaimed  Jacquetta, 
involuntarily — forgetting:,  lor  an  instant,  everything  but 
the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  hid. 

As  she  spoke,  the  boy  opened  his  eyes,  and  they 
fell  full  upon  tlie  liandsome,  troubled  face  bendini' 
over  him,  and,  with  a  faint  exclamation,  he  attempted 
to  rise;  but  at  the  motion  a  spasm  of  intense  pain  shot 
across  his  pale  face,  and  shuddering  through  all  his 
frame,  his  head  dropped  heavily  on  Disbrowe's  breast. 

"My  poor  boy!"  said  Disbrowe,  C()mi)assionately, 
"  do  not  attempt  to  rise.  Your  arm  is  broken,  I  fear; 
but  I  will  take  you  where  you  will  be  carefully  nursed." 

"No.  Let  me  go;  put  me  down — 1  must  go,"  said 
the  boy,  wildly,  making  another  attenij)t  to  free  him, 
self;  but  his  voice  was  faint  and  sharp  with  agony, 
and  his  face  twitclied  convulsively  with  the  almost  un- 
endurable xiin,  and  once  more  he  sank  back,  white  and 
fainting. 

Disbrow  ^'s  only  reply  was  to  place  him  upon  his 
horse,  and  then  leap  into  the  saddle ;  while,  with  a 
<XVQiii\  that  all  his  clforts  could  not  repress,  the  poor 
boy's  head  dropped  heavily  on  his  shoulder. 

"What  is  to  be  done  with  this  scoundrel  who  as- 
saulted you^"  said  Jacquetta.  "Shall  1  order  Lion  to 
keep  hin'i  here  till  we  can  return  with  men  to  arrest 
him  i     Eh  i" 

Captain  Tempest's  reply  to  this  proposition  was  an 
appalling  volley  of  oaths,  as  his  livid  face  grew  a  shade 
more  ghostly,  and  he  shook  his  clenched  list  furiously  at 
Jacquetta  in  impotent  passion. 

"No,  let  him  go;  let  Captain  Tem])est  go,"  said 
.lacinto,  faintly,  lifting  his  head  foran  instant,  and  then 
drop])ing  it  again. 

"  Let  him  go,  since  the  lad  desires  it,"  said  Disbrowe, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation.  "  I  shall  be  on  my  guard 
for  the  future,  and  will  not  be  taken  at  a  disadvantage 
again." 


if 

% 


d  U 


1  ., 


m 


Vf 


I,  *• 


:i 


110 


JA  CINTO. 


"  VtM-y  well,"  said  Jacquotta,  as  she  fearlessly  ap- 
proached the  ravin<r  8;ivai2:e  ;  '•  but  first,  my  dear  sir,  I 
M'ill  trouble  you  for  that  pistol.  Jiefore  Lion  lets  you 
olf  the  limits,  you  must  '  stand  and  deliver.'  " 

Captain  Nick  furiously  hurled  the  pistol  at  her  feet. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Jacquetta,  coolly,  as  she  })ieked 
up  the  weiipon  and  examined  it.  "  Loaded,  I  see — all 
right !     Here,  Lion — here,  my  boy  ;  let  him  go!" 

AVitli  a  sullen  ^^rowl  like  his  angry  namesake,  that 
showe<l  how  much  against  his  better  judgment  he  com- 
plied, Lion  oI)eyed,  and  trotted  over  to  the  side  of  his 
young  mistress,  still  displaying  a  formidable  array  of 
teeth. 

"  Now,  be  off  at  once,"  shouted  Jacquetta,  in  a  high, 
ringing  tone  of  command,  as  she  raised  the  pistol  and 
kept  her  bright  eye  fixed  on  the  outwitted  captain. 
"  Vanish,  before  1  am  tempted  to  give  you  a  dose  of 
cold  lead,  which  I  would  just  as  lief  do,  only  I  don't 
want  to  rob  the  gallows  of  its  due.     Be  off!" 

Gnashing  his  teeth  with  impotent  passion,  the  cap- 
tain obeyed — not  knowing  how  soon  the  dangerous- 
looking  little  des[)erado  might  be  tempted  to  tire;  and 
a  mocking  laugh  from  Jacquetta  came  wafted  after  him 
on  the  evening  breeze,  and  was  the  last  sound  he  heard, 
as  he  vanished  round  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

"  The  youth  has  fainted  again,"  said  Disbrowe, 
anxiously,  as  Jacquetta,  whistling  to  Lion,  stuck  the 
pistol  in  the  belt  she  wore,  and  vaulted  lightly  on  her 
Jiorsc. 

"So  much  the  bettor,"  said  Jacquetta.  "  You  can 
ride  rapidly  now  without  fear  of  hurting  him — poor 
feMow  !     Come,  oi  avantP^ 

J>oth  spirited  horses  darted  off  simultaneously,  and 
in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  the  peaked  gables  and 
quaint  turrets  of  Fontelle  came  in  sight. 

"  Don't  alarm  the  house,  but  bring  him  up  here," 
said  Jaccjuctta,  as  she  entered  the  hall,  followed  by  Dis- 
browe  carrying  his  insensible  burden,  "  into  the  room 
next  mine— in  hero." 


I 


■ 


,Li  CINTO. 


Ill 


She  led  tlie  way  down  the  long  hall,  up  a  ilight  of 
stairs,  and  throuu-h  another  hall  leading  to  tjie  south 
M'ing  of  the  building ;  and  throwing  open  a  door, 
ushered  Disbrowe  into  a  pleasant  little  room,  elegantly 
furnished  in  tasteful,  modern  style. 

Disbrowe  laid  Jacitito  on  a  low  Frencli  bed  Jiung 
with  white,  scarcely  whiter  now  than  his  death-like 
face.  Again,  as  he  looked  at  him,  that  same  unac- 
countable conviction  that  he  had  seen  him  somewhere 
before,  flashed  across  his  mind. 

But  Jacquetta,  with  her  usual  energetic  prompti- 
tude, left  him  little  time  to  ruminate,  for  no  sooner 
had  he  laid  him  down,  than  she  said : 

"  There  !  go  now  and  hunt  up  Frank,  and  send  him 
off  to  Green  Creek  for  a  doctor.  Tell  him  to  be  quick, 
for  the  sooner  this  arm  is  set,  the  better.     Go  !'' 

In  spite  of  himself,  Disbrowe  could  not  re])ress  a 
smile  at  the  young  lady's  prompt,  off-liand,  decided 
way  of  doing  business,  but  without  waiting  even  to  re- 
ply, he  darted  oil",  leaving  Jack  De  Vere  alone  with 
her  patient. 

He  found  Fraidc  yawning  dreamily  over  a  novel  in 
the  parlor;  and  in  a  fev/  words  told  him  wliat  had 
happened,  and  dispatched  him  for  a  physician.  Frank's 
astonishment  was  unbounded,  but  he  took  ]xu!is  to  re- 
press it,  and  beyond  the  ejaculation  "  Whew!"  jerked 
out  of  him  by  the  exigency  of  the  case,  he  said  nothing, 
but  clapping  his  hat  on  his  head,  disappeared  instanter. 

Just  as  Disbrowe  was  about  to  return  to  the  room 
where  he  had  left  Jacinto  and  his  pretty,  spirited,  little 
nurse,  Mr.  De  Vere  came  along  the  hall,  and  to  the 
great  chagrin  of  his  dutiful  nej)liew,  called  hitn  oil"  to 
see  some  im])rovements  he  was  about  to  make  in  the 
grounds.  He  made  desperate  clforts  to  listen  to  the 
questions  asked  him  by  his  uncle,  but  answered  so  much 
at  random,  that  Mr.  JJe  Vere  |>ushed  up  his  s]iectacles, 
and  looked  at  him,  to  see  if  he  had  taken  leave  of  his 
senses.  In  a  few  moments  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs, 
coining  up  the  avenue  in  front,  warned  him  tliat  Frank 


'■:       -If! 

■I 


.1     ITt'.  f 


I 


•II 


i 


mm 


113 


JACINTO. 


]r>- 


■was  returning,  and  Disbrowo,  iiiuil)lo  to  roinain  longer, 
abruptly  turned  and  walked  oil",  to  the  utter  amazement 
of  Mr.  l)e  Vere. 

Frank  was  not  alone ;  a  little  pauneliy  old  gentle- 
man, with  a  bald  head  and  a  jolly  I'aee,  accompanied 
him,  whom  Frank  introduced  as  Doctor  Simonds. 

"  Bad  case  this  broken  arm,"  said  the  little  doctor, 
rubbing  his  hands  joyfully,  ''rather  unpleasant  thing. 
Go  ahead,  my  son,  and  show  me  the  way.  Have  a 
pinch,  sir^"  said  the  little  man,  taking  a  huge  pinch  of 
snulf  himself,  and  handing  the  box  to  Disbrowe. 

''No,  thank  you,"  said  Disbrowe,  politely.  "I'll 
guide  you,  doc^tor." 

"  Ilow  did  this  mishap  occur?"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Frank  couldn't  tell  me." 

"  An  accident,"  said  Disbrowe,  briefly,  as  he  knocked 
at  the  door. 

It  was  opened  i)y  Jacquetta,  looking  strangely  pale 
and  aii-itatcd. 

"  (Jh,  walk  in,  Doctor  Simonds,"  she  said  hurriedly ; 
"but  3"ou  must  not  enter.  Captain  Disbrowe,  at  least, 
not  yet." 

"  I  may  v;ant  some  one  to  help  me,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  Then  I  will  help  you,"  she  said,  still  keeping  her 
hand  on  Disbrowe's  arm,  as  if  to  keep  him  out.  '•  My 
dear  cousin,  oblige  me  by  not  coming  in  just  at  pres- 
ent." 

Disbrowe  bowed,  and  walked  olT,  scarcely  knowing 
whether  to  be  irritated  or  not  at  this  cavalier  mode  of 
treatment,  lie  flung  himself  into  a  chair  in  the  front 
hall,  and  determined  to  rejiiain  there  and  waylay  the 
doctor  as  he  came  out,  and  learn  from  him  at  least 
something  conceriung  the  patient.  Gradually,  as  he 
thought  of  her  brusque,  independent  ways  and  tones, 
and  cool,  determined  manner,  a  smile  broke  over  his 
handsome  face ;  and  he  could  not  help  owning  that 
this  resolute,  careless  iudependence,  and  the  easy  grace 


wm 


JACINTO. 


113 


with  which  she  invested  it,  became  her  w^onderfully 
well,  as  nothing  else  could  have  done. 

"  What  a  queen  she  would  make!"  he  thoug'.it,  as 
he  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  fell  into  thought. 
"  She  would  be  a  second  Elizabeth,  in  all  but  "the 
cruelty.  What  a  gii'l  it  is,  to  be  sure!  I  wish  she 
were  a  duchess,  I  would  then  be  tempted  to  fall  in  love 
with  her  !  If  she  ha(hi't  red  hair — ah,  there's  the  rub ! 
as  JIandet  says.  I  detest  red  liair,  yet  it  is  not  abso- 
lutely hidf'ous  in  her,  it  is  soft  and  glossy  as  lioss  silk, 
and  would  be  beautiful  only  for  th'.;  confounded  eolor. 
I  wonder  what  Earueclilfe  and  Lady  Margjiret  would 
think  of  her.  By  Jove!  iiow-  she  would  horrify  her 
ladyship."     And  Disbrowe  laughed  at  the  thoui2:ht. 

"  A  penny  tor  your  thoughts,  monsieur,"  said  a 
musical  voice  at  his  ell)OW,  and  looking  up  he  saw 
Jacquetta  herself  with  her  piercing  eyes  lixed  on  his 
face,  and  the  strangest  smile  on  her  lips.  "Are  they 
worth  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma  heUe.,  for  they  were  of — you  !" 

"  Oh,  then  they  nuist  have  been  invaluable.  But  I 
tell  you  what,  Cousin  All","  said  the  young  lady,  ad- 
justing her  bracelet,  and  then  holding'out  lier  arm  to 
look  at  the  ell'ect,  '■  it's  all  a  waste  of  ammunition  think- 
ing of  me,  and  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  continue  it! 
Why  don't  you  ask  about  our  handsome  patient  V 

"  I  fancied,  perhaps,  his  exacting  mn-so  would  not 
allow  it,"  said  Disbrowe,  in  a  tone  of  slight  picpie. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  your  inquiring  after  him, 
as  long  as  you  oidy  do  that,"  said  Jacquetta,  smiling 
provokingly,  "so  I  will  relieve  your  mind  at  once,  by 
saying  liis  arm  is  safely  set,  and  Doctor  Simonds  says  he 
will  do  nicely." 

"  Where  is  the  doctor?" 

"  i  I'^h  him  out  by  a  side-door,  for  I  knew  you  wanted 
to  lay  violent  hands  on  him,  and  would  drive  the 
worthy  little  soul  to  the  verge  of  distraction  with  all 
your  questions." 


'f  m 


^E 


'J.  r 


i-f 


114 


JACINTO. 


Well,  can 


I  see 


"  How  very  thoughtful  of  you  ! 
yoar  patient  V 

"Most  certainly  not!  I  wonder  at  your  askinj^ 
Buch  a  question,  Cousin  Alfred,"  said  Jacquetta,  arch- 
ing her  eyebrows,  and  givini^  her  bracelet  a  twist. 

"  But  1  wa7it  to  thank  him  for  saving  my  life." 

"  Well,  so  you  can,  when  l)e  gets  better.  The  doc- 
tor commands  quiet  for  him." 

"Wlien  can  I  see  him,  tiien  ? " 

"  Well,  I'll  think  about  it,  and  it  may  be  soon,  and 
then  again,  it  mightn't,  as  old  Kowlie  of  the  Mermaid 
says.      You  must  have  patience,  my  dear  cousin." 

"And  what  will  he  think  of  me,"  said  Disbrowe, 
pacing  up  and  down  vehemently,  "  after  saving  my  life, 
if  I  do  not  even  give  him  the  poor  reward  of  thanks.  I 
tell  you  1  must  see  him  !" 

"  Patience,  Cousin  Alfred  !  it's  a  beautiful  virtue, 
and  I  would  reconnnend  it  to  you  while  you  are  young 
and — innocent !"  said  Jacquetta,  after  a  ])ause,  drawing 
down  the  corners  of  her  rosy  mouth. 

Disbrowe  snatched  up  his  hat,  in  a  lit  of  angry  im- 
patience, and  was  about  to  leave  her,  when  Jacquetta 
laughingly  caught  him  and  held  him  back. 

"  There  now  !  Don't  be  vexed.  Where's  the  use 
of  getting  cross,"  she  said  in  a  soothing  tone,  as  if 
speaking  to  a  spoiled  child.  "  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor,  as  a  lady  and  a  De  Vere,  that  you.  will  see  him  as 
Boon  as  it  is  prudent,  and  you  may  then  go  down  on 
your  knees,  and  thank  him  till  all's  blue.  Meantime, 
I'll  faithfully  report  to  him  the  terrihc  pitch  of  grati- 
tudie  you've  worked  yourself  up  to.  There's  my  hand 
on  it !  And  now  sit  down  and  behave  yourself.  That 
pleasant-spoken  gentleman  who  tried  to  send  you  to  a 
better  world  is  Captain  Nick  Tempest — is  it  not  ?  '  Old 
]Nick,'  as  they  call  him  f 

"  Yes,"  said  Disbrowe,  taking  a  seat  beside  her. 

"  AVell,  who  do  you  think  he  reminded  me  of." 

"  Can't  say — but  I  know  who  he  reminds  me  of." 

"  Well  r 


JACINTO. 


115 


"  lie  reminds  me  of — inyselt'!" 

"  By  Jove  !  my  idea  to  a  fraction,"  said  Disbrowe, 
delightedly  ;  ''not  that  vou  look  alike,  but  somehow — " 

"  Yes,  but  we  do  look  alike,  thoiiii^h — I'm  certain 
of  it — except  that  I'm  rather  better  looking,  I  Hatter 
myself.     JLiven't  we  got  hair  alike,  now?" 

"  Oh  !  but  his  is  red,"  said  Disbrowe,  hesitatingly, 
''  and  yours — " 

"  Is  red,  too,"  said  Jaequetta. 

"  Indeed  !  I  thought  it  was  auburn — beautiful  au- 
burn," said  Disl)rowe,  in  the  lazy  tone  in  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  issue  little     ords'of  fiction. 

"  Oh,  von  did!  did  you  ;"  said  Jacquetta  ;  "but 
then  youh-e  only  an  Englishman,  and  can't  bo  expected 
to  sec  till  it's  "far  in  the  day,  and  then  you're  not  half 
wide-awake.  Why,  I  wouldn't  have  my  hair  any  other 
color,  on  any  account.  It's  a  good,  high-mettled,  spir- 
ited color,  and  shows  people  have  a  decided  will  of  their 
ov/n ;  and  then  it's  nice  and  showy — none  of  your  dis- 
nial  blacks,  nor  fady,  sickly  yellows,  iKjr  neutral"  browns. 
Xo,  sir,  my  hair's  i-ed,  and  I'm  proud  of  it  I"  said  Jac- 
quetta, shaking  her  Hashing  curls  from  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  one  thing  is  ceri:ain,"'  said  Disbrowe,  "you 
are  the  lirst  I)e  Vere  that  ever  had  red  hair,  witliin  the 
memory  of  man." 

"  And  that's  another  reason  why  I'm  ])roud  of  it. 
It's  time  there  was  a  change  in  the  family — they  have 
been  going  on  in  the  old  way  long  enough,  goodness 
knows  !  The  followers  of  the  Silver  Star  have  been 
keeping  u])  their  obsolete  notions  long  enough,  and  need 
ti  little  variety." 

"  And  a  more  bewitching  variety  they  could  not 
have  than  Miss  Jacquetta  i)e  Vere,"  said  Disbrowe, 
softly. 

"Humph!"  said  Jacquetta,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 
"Let's  change  the  subje(;t.  Are  you  fond  of  singing. 
Cousin  Alfred  I  I  wish  you  would  sing  '  Hear  me, 
Norma.'     It  is  a  pretty  song." 

He  half  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on 


118 


JACINTO. 


I-   K    '•■  1* 


I  Til 


her,  as  if  lie  would  read  her  very  heart.  She  met  his 
gaze  unllinehingly,  and  a^aiu  her  hmghinf^  S^'^y  <^JG3 
reminded  liini  ut'  the  picture,  there  wai  sucJi  an  iin- 
ineasural)le  depth  of  mockery  shining  tlu'ough,  and 
baiilinn;  liim. 

''  I  heard  you  whistling  it  yesterday,"  she  said,  care- 
lessly ;  '•  and  as  it  is  a  favorite  of  mine,  I  thought  per- 
haps you  might  favor  me  now." 

"iS^:»;  I  never  sing,"  he  said,  half  curtly,  as  he 
arose  a/i^ain,  an.l  began  walking  up  and  down. 

''  Well,  1  must  leave  you,  then,  and  return  to  my 
patient,"  she  said,  rising.  '*  I  will  see  you  at  the  tea- 
table,  and  report  ]M*ogress."  And,  with  a  smiling  wave 
of  her  hand,  she  was  gone. 

Disbrowe  paced  up  and  down  the  long  hall  in  deep 
thought,  until  the  bell  rang  for  the  evening  meal. 
There  was  a  half -puzzled,  half -angry  look  on  his  face  ; 
yet  now  and  then,  as  if  in  spite  of  him,  his  features 
would  relax  into  a  smile,  and  his  last  word;:  were,  as  ho 
turned  to  join  the  family :  "  It's  of  no  use,  I  cannot 
read  the  riddle." 

"  1  have  a  message  for  you,  cousin,"  said  Jacquetta, 
in  a  low  voice,  approaching  him  when  supper  was  over. 

"  Well ;  I  am  all  attention,"  said  Disbrowe. 

"  It  is  from  him — you  know.  lie  says,  7iot  to  dis- 
tress yourself  over-much  with  gratitude,  as  he  merely 
acted  as  he  would  have  done  for  any  one ;  and  as  for 
your  thanks,  they  will  keep,  and,  like  gooseberry  wine, 
be  all  the  better  for  keeping.  So  make  yourself  easy, 
cousin  mine." 

"  I  intend  to,"  said  Disbruwe,  throwing  himself  into 
a  chair.  "  Capital  advice,  that,  and  I  intend  to  follow 
it.  Do  you  know,  when  I  marry  I  expect  to  repose  on 
a  couch  of  rose-leaves  all 


It 


'^^y 


'O' 


^y 


fan  me  and  sing- 

"  Hear   nie,  Xorma !"  broke   in   Jacquetta,  with  a 
wicked  laugh ;  and    Disbrowe   colored,   and   instantly 


gl- 


ow SI 


lent. 


That  evening  he  heard  Jacquetta  sing  for  the  first 


JACINTO. 


Ml 


time,  and  a  superb  vc»ieo  she  had.  Aiij:^usta,  too,  swept 
over  tlie  keys  of  the  piano  witii  :i  iiiustLa'-haiid,  at  her 
father's  desire  ;  but  aa  autoinatoii  would  Jiave  done  it 
with  as  much  life.  If  she  had  been  made  of  marhle 
she  could  not  have  sat  more  white,  and  cold,  and  Blill, 
than  she  sat  before  them  there. 

Later  that  evening,  Jaequetta  sang  an  old  English 
ballad,  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  JDisbrowe — an  old 
song  with  a  sweet,  plaintive  air — and,  lying  lazily  back, 
he  w^atclied  her  with  half -closed  eyes,  and  listened  to 
the  words : 


I' 


% 


i-i! 

m 


»';, 


**  Atul  wlien  the  Christmas  talc  goes  round, 
By  many  a  peat  jirosidc, 
Tlie  children  list  and  shrink  to  hear 
IIow  Childe  of  Phymstoke  died." 

And  then  the  song  goes  on  to  say  how  the  "  Old  Tor  " 
went  a  hunting,  and  how  he  lost  his  w\ay  on  the  moor, 
and  of  his  despair. 


"For  far  and  wide  the  highland  lay 
One  pathless  waste  of  snow. 
He  paused — the  angry  lieavens  above, 


The  faithless  bog  below, 


"  lie  paused,  and  soon  through  all  Ms  veins 

Life's  current  feebly  ran  ; 
■   And  heavily  a  mortal  sleep 

Came  o'er  the  dying  man. 

"Yet  one  dear  wish,  one  tender  thought 
Came  o'er  that  hunter  brave  "  — 


Jaequetta  paused,  and  rose  w^lh  a  laugh. 

"Well,  that's  very  pretty  !  Vv^hy  don't  you  go  on, 
and  let  us  know  what  that  '  tender  thought'  was^" 
said  Disbrowe. 

"  I  w^as  just  thinking  of  your  getting  lost,"  she 
replied ;  "  and    was  afraid   y»>u   might   think  the  song 


118 


JACINTO. 


personal — ])e>iiles,  you  have  lieard  enough  of  old  songs, 
without  mo  Bingiiig  them  to  you." 

"  Tiicre  are  no  songs  like  them,"  said  Disbrowe. 
"I  would  rather  hear  one  old  ballad  than  all  the  Italian 
songs  that  ever  a  i)ruiia  donna  trilled  and  quavered." 

"You  thiidv  too  much  of  old  things !"  said  Jac- 
quetta,  half-ix'ttishly.  '"Old  names,  and  old  families, 
and  old  houses,  and  old  songs,  all  alike.  For  my  part, 
I  believe  in  modern  improvements  and  new  sensations, 
altogether." 

"  And  yet  I  am  certain  you  would  rather  bear  the 
old  name  of  I)e  Vere  than  any  otlun*  under  the  sun," 
said  Disbrowe. 

With  a  gesture  that  was  abiiost  fierce  in  its  passionate 
impatience,  Jacquetta  arose  and  moved  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room. 

"  You  are  a  De  Yei'e,  my  dear  boy,  if  there  ever 
was  one,"  said  his  uncle,  with  a  smile  ;  "  and  will  marry 
a  countess,  I'll  l)e  bound  !" 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  countess  living  I  would 
marry,"  said  Disbrowe,  carelessly. 

"  And  why  not,  pray  %  A  duchess,  then,"  laughed 
Mr.  De  V^ere. 

"  Nor  a  duchess — unless  I  was  in  love  with  her, 
and  she  would  have  me." 

"  Two  very  important  considerations,"  said  his 
uncle.     ''Then  you  mean  to  marry  for  love?" 

'•  I  hope  so;  if  1  ever  do  come  to  that." 

"It's  an  old-fashioned  notion.  Is  that  tlie  reason?" 
said  Jacquetta,  with  a  curling  lip. 

"Partly.  If  ever  I  sec  a  woman,  my  equal  in  every 
way,  and  we  hap])en  to  love  one  another  in  a  decent, 
quiet,  gentlemanly  and  lady-like  sort  of  fashion,  it  is 
prol)ab!e  we  will  get  married,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the 
world." 

"  What  a  fortunate  woman  she  will  be!"  said  Jac- 
quetta, sarcastically.     "  Have  you  ever  seen  her  yet. 


Captain  Disbrowe 

"Can't  say,    positively,"    he   said,   carelessly. 


a 


\ 


JACINTO. 


119 


may,  and  tlieii  apjaiii  I   mayn't,  to  quote  the  authority 
you  ineutioiied  some  time  au^o/' 

"  Kather  an  nn?ati.-;t'ac'toiy  answer,"  said  Mr.  De 
Yere.  ''Now  snpj^ose,  my  dear  Alfred,  you  fell  in 
love  with  a  girl — handsome,  accom})lislied,  and  lady- 
like— and  the  danghterot"  a  i)eddler,  or  tailor — and  that 
she  loved  vou  :  would  you  marrv  her  f 

'*  No,  sir  !"  said  Disbrowe — and  his  tine  face  looked 
cold  and  proud  in  tlie  clear  light — "no,  sir;  I  never 
would." 

"  yimply  because  she  was  not  your  ecpial  in  birth  V 

"  Yes;  for  that  reason  alon.e,  even  if  1  did  not  fear 
the  scoffs  and  jeers  of  the  world,  or  the  just  indignation 
of  Earneclilfe,  the  proudest  peer  in  England.  No, 
sir,"  said  the  young  man,  resuming  his  customary  cai-e- 
less  tone  ;  "  I  never  would  nuu'ry  any  one  below  me  in 
birth,  for  any  consideration." 

"  Oh,  bother  your  loftiness  !"  muttered  Frank,  in- 
dignantly.    "  I  wish  you  had  been  born  in  a  barn !" 

Jacquetta  arose,  suddenly  ;  and,  with  a  fierce,  flash- 
ing fire  in  her  eyes,  lifted  up  one  arm  as  if  to  speak, 
but  a  cold,  white  hand  was  laid  beseechingly  on  it,  and 
the  marble-like  face  of  Lady  Augusta  interposed : 

"Not  now,  Jacquetta!  Oh,  Jacquetta,  dearest,  not 
now !" 

Jacquetta  stooped  and  kissed  her,  with  a  softening 
brow  ;  but  the  fire  was  in  her  eye,  and  a  hot,  crimson 
spot  on  either  cheek,  as,  with  the  tread  and  step  of  an 
empress,  she  passed  from  the  room. 

Disbrowe  sat  confoun'*(>d.  VvHiat  had  he  said  ?— 
what  had  he  done  1  A  sudden  gravity  had  fallen  on 
all.  Augusta  sat  like  a  figure  of  ice,  Mr.  De  Vere 
looked  serious,  and  Frank  was  scowling  indignantly  at 
him  from  under  his  brows. 

"  My  dear  uncle,"  he  said,  after  a  ])ause,  "  1  hope 
I  have  not  offended  Miss  De  V^ere.  1  most  certainly 
had  not  the  remotest  intention  of  doing  so,  and  am  yet 
ignorant  of  my  fault ;  for,    assuredly,    nothing   1   said 


i 


120 


JA  CINTO. 


'.k\- 


\rA 


can,  iu  tlie  most  distant  way,  apply  to  lier — my  equal 
ill  every  sense  of  tlie  word." 

"  You  forij::ot  that  yon  will  he  a  peer  of  tlie  realm 
one  of  these  days,  when  the  })resent  Lord  Earnecliife 
kicks  the  bncket,''  sneered  Frank,  "  and  she  will  only 
be  Jack  De  Vere,  and  '  our  American  cousin,'  and  a 
poor  relation." 

"Silence,  sir!"  ^aid  ]\rr.  I)e  Yere,  sternly,  as  Dis- 
biowe's  face  flashed  indiii;nant  scarlet.  '"  Do  not  mind 
Frank,  my  dear  boy;  be  has  caunht  J  acquetta's  fashion 
of  saying  whatever  he  ])]eases,  and  consequently  thinks 
a  little  too  loud,  sometimes." 

"A  fashion,  it  seems,  no  one  else  is  to  have," 
thought  Disbrowe.  Then,  aloud:  "  And  is  it  really 
possible  my  cousin  is  so  red-hot  a  republican  as  to  be 
ollended  at  my  thoughtless  words  'i  1  imagined  she 
would  have  syni])athized  with  me." 

"Jacquetta  does  not  believe  in  true  merit  being 
overlooked,  because  it  happened  to  be  born  in  a  hovel ; 
and  she  has  a  quick  temper,  and  takes  no  jiains  to  con- 
ceal her  feelings  on  any  subject,"  said  ]\Ir.  De  Vere. 
"  Dut  as  for  her  momentary  irritation,  she  will  quickly 
get  over  that,  and  meet  you  to-morrow  as  blithely  as 
ever.  One  thing,  though,  I  wish  you  to  remember," 
added  the  speaker,  with  a  slight  smile:  "  avoid  this 
subject  in  her  ])rescnce.  It  is  like  applying  a  match  to 
a  ])(>wder-niagazine.  Augusta,  my  love,  you  are  not 
looking  well ;  perhaps  you  had  better  retire." 

Augusta  arose  in  her  slow,  lifeless  way,  and  with  a 
slight  bend  of  the  head,  left  the  room,  followed  by 
Frank.  And  the  Honorable  Alfred  Disbrowe,  dissatis- 
fied with  himself  and  Jaccpietta,  soon  after  did  the 
same  thing,  and  felt  half-inclined  to  wish  Miss  Jac- 
(pu'tta  was  liku  her  picture,  and  that  the  same  old 
smiling  look  would  never  change. 

"It  is  such  a  vulgar  thing  to  see  a  young  girl  in 
a  passion!  \'iilgar— revolting — hiileous!"  he  said, 
testily,  "  and  for  nothing,  too.     I  believe  in  my  soul 


f 


the  girl  is  not  a  De  Vere  at  all. 


Got  changed  in  the 


Ul 


JACINTO. 


121 


■It  ^ 


\ 


\ 


cradle,  or  sometliinnj ;  only  I'm  perfectly  sure,  as  it 
happens,  that  neither  nncle  llobert,  nor  my  lady  consiii 
Aii^^n.sta,  are  the  sort  ol'  folks  who  believe  in  adoptiiiui: 
other  ])eople's  children.  To  he  sure,  there  is  tlu^t 
flippant  Frank;  hut  then  luj's  one  of  the  family,  an-l 
lias  the  De  Yero  face,  sllt^htly  modified  with  that  oi 
Stul)hs — bless  the  nnirki — but  Miss  Jaccpietta — riu^htly 
named  Jack — has  not  a  sin_i>:le  iota  of  resemblance  t;» 
any  De  Yero  ever  I  saw.  She  is  an  oriLnual — a  little 
Hash  of  li^^htnini];  in  gaiters — a  snapdragon — a  liule 
llame  of  fire,  remarkably  apt  to  burn  the  lingers  of  any 
one  who  attempts  to  handle  her.  "Well,  peace  to  her 
memory  !     J  must  g<:»  to  sleep." 

Ihit  Captain  Disbrowe  did  not  fall  asleep  as  soon  as 
he  thought,  but  lay  awake,  tossing  restk'ssly,  looking 
at  the  picture,  thinking  of  Jacquetta,  of  his  evening 
adventure,  and  of  last  night's  mysteri(»us  nnisie. 
"Would  it  be  repeated  to-night ?"  lie  halfdioped  it 
might,  for  never  did  mortal  listen  to  such  delicious 
strains  as  had  then  greeted  his  ear. 

lie  slept  at  last,  and  sleeping  he  dreamed.  Again 
he  was  in  the  lonesome  gorge  between  the  hills,  and 
again  Captain  Kick  Tempest  and  Jacquetta  were  there. 
Gradually,  the  air  became  tilled  with  softest,  sweuti.'st 
melody  ;  from  what  quarter  no  man  could  tell ;  and 
as  it  rose  and  fell  in  ravishing  cadences,  he  saw,  and 
saw  without  surprise,  too  (he  rememi)ered  Hidt  wIkmi 
he  awoke),  the  fair  face  and  graceful  form  of  riacquetta 
undergo  a  fnghtful  transformation.  She  dro])ped  on 
her  hands,  long  black  hair  waved  around  her,  and,  in  a 
moment,  she  stood  changed  into  the  dotj  J  Jon  !  And, 
at  the  same  inst^mt,  Captain  Kick  Tenq)est  was  trans- 
formed into  the  image  of  a  lovely  lady  ;  and  stretching 
out  his  arms,  with  a  great  cry  of  "Korma!''  he  awoke 
• — awoke  to  find  it  not  all  a  dream!  The  night  was 
far  advanced;  and  the  air  was  tilled,  as  in  his  dream, 
M'ith  divinest  nuisic.  Such  celestial  harmony,  that  it 
held  bin)  entranced,  spell-bound,  charmed  beyond  the 
power  of  motion,  for  a  time.     Then,  as  it  changed  and 


,% 


K 


123 


JACINTO. 


m 


m '. 


broke  into  wild,  weird,  qiiiverini^  strains,  like  cries  of 
pain  from  liniuan  lips,  lie  spraiii!;  out  of  bed,  dressed 
rapidly,  and,  with  a  desperate  impulse  upon  him  to 
find  out  whence  it  came,  he  descended  the  stairs  and 
crossed  the  hall. 

The  massive  hall-door  was  locked,  but  the  key  was 
inside;  and  tnrninjjj  it,  he  stood,  the  next  instant,  alone 
in  the  solenni  beauty  of  the  starlit  ni«i;ht.  There  was  a 
faint  youni;-  moon  that  shone  in  the  sky  like  a  broken 
rinii;  of  silver,  and  by  its  lii;-ht,  and  by  tliat  of  the  hi^h, 
l)ri<2;ht,  solemn  st;u's,  he  rapidly  took  his  way  toward 
the  deserted  north  wini^  of  tne  buildin<2;. 

A  dark,  gloomy,  dismal  ]>ile  it  looked,  as  if  it  wore, 
in  very  truth,  as  [)oor  Hood  has  since  sung  : 


"  lliulcr  somu  pro(li<rious  ban 
Of  uxcoinmuiiicutioii." 


The  old  English  ivy  grew  thick  and  rank  aronnd  the 
narrov/ windows,  wrapj)ingit,  even  when  the  snn  shone, 
in  funeral  gloom.  All  was  dark  and  lonely  there,  hut 
the  strains  of  music  were  close  at  hand,  and  there  no 
longer  remained  a  douht  bnt  that  it  came  from  the  in- 
terior. 

Suddenly,  while  he  watched,  a  faint  trembling  ray 
of  light  passed  one  of  the  windows.  A  sudden  sus- 
picion shot  through  his  mind  of  burglars  and  house- 
breakers, and  a  sort  of  conviction  that  Captain  Tempest 
or  Old  Grizzle  was  in  there,  liashed  upon  him.  In  a 
twinkling,  he  had  grasped  a  stent  ivy  stalk,  and  holding 
on  to  the  projecting  still,  held  himself  n[)  and  looked 
in. 

It  was  a  female  carrying  a  lamp  ;  but  was  it  Grizzle 
llowlet  ^  Yes — if  she  had  a  small,  neat,  airy  figure  ;  a 
iieet,  noiseless  footstep  ;  a  small,  delicate  face,  and  wav- 
ing, curling  hair;  if  she  ever  wore  a  dainty  white 
wrapper,  and  had  a  small,  snowy  hand,  sparkling  with 
rich  rings.  For  one  instant,  the  light  of  the  lamp 
Hashed  full  on  the  face  of  her  who   here  it,  and  never 


JACINTO. 


128 


fell  mortal  eye  on  a  face  so  white,  so  rigid,  with  such 
wild,  glistening  eyes,  and  worried,  terrified  look. 

She  passed'on — all  was  darkness  again;  aixl  the  in- 
stant she  disappeared,  the  ninsic  ceased,  lie  held  on 
until  his  hands  were  cold ;  and  then  he  sprang  down 
and  jxiced  up  and  down,  restlessly,  waiting  for  the  i-e- 
appearance  of  that  light,  till  the  stars  died,  one  l)y  one, 
out  of  the  sky,  and  the  chill  gray  dawn  came  hliio  and 
cold  over  the'  distant  hills  ;  and  still  it  appeared  not. 
And  then  he  re-entered  the  house,  returned  to  his  bed- 
room, and  threw  himself,  cold  and  chilled,  in  bed — not 
to  sleep,  but  to  wonder  what  this  midnight  visit  meant. 
From  its  place  above  him,  the  pictured  face  smiled  upon 
him  still,  but  with  a  meaning  in  its  mcxikery  lie  had 
never  felt  before,  and  with— oh  !  such  a  world  of  dei-is- 
ion  in  its  laughing  eyes  !  Sleeping  or  waking,  would  he 
ever  forget  the  look'that  white  face  wore'^ — that  look 
of  mingled  horror,  loathing,  and  repulsion,  that  made 
it,  despite  its  young  beauty,  ghastly  to  look  upon — that 
look  on  the  faco,  of — Jacquetta  De  Yere  I 


•  I 


I'H 


124 


A    MTSTEB7. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  MYSTERY. 

*'  Since  then,  ut  an  uncertuin  hour, 
This  agony  relurns; 
And  till  my  ghastly  tale  is  told 
This  heart  within  me  burns." 

— Ye  Ancient  MAniNEit, 


M 


LL  the  next  day,  Jaecjiictta  did  not  make  her 
appearance;  she  was  in  the  room  with  their 
wounded  gnest,  and  had  her  meals  hron^rht 
np.  ]\ir.  De  Vere  and  Augusta  had  not 
been  told  of  Disbrowe's  adventure  with 
Captain  Tem])est,  and  they  sim])ly  knew  that  a  young 
stranger  had  broken  his  arm,  and  had  been  brought  to 
Fontelle  by  Jaequetta,  and  that  she  had  constituted 
herself  his  inirse.  Once,  Mr.  De  Vere  had  paid  a  visit 
to  the  sick-room,  and  had  returned  to  tell  Disbrowe  ho 
found  him  sitting  up  talking  to  Jacquetta,  and  to  mar- 
vel at  his  singular  and  extniordinary  beauty — whleh  was 
the  lirst  thing  to  strike  a  beholder,  always,  on  seeing 
Jacinto.  Disbrowe's  lip  curled  as  his  uncle  spoke  of 
the  tender  care  and  undenying  attention  of  his  daugh- 
ter to  the  Spanish  boy. 

"I  wonder,  if  this  young  stranger  were  humpbacked 
and  pock-marked,  if  Miss  Jacquetta  would  be  so  de- 
voted 'i  I  wonder  how  much  his  handsome  face  has  to 
do  with  all  this  tender  watching  and  alTectionate  care'i" 
lie  said,  inwardly.  "  Take  care,  Miss  Jacquetta  I  Young 
hidies  have  fallen  in  love  with  young  strangers  before 
now^  and  with  less  handsome  ones  than  this  dark-eyed 
lad,  too,  I'll  swear!     I  wonder  if  the  girl  ever  was  in 


.1     r 


A 


J 


f^ 


I 


A     MYSTERY. 


125 


love  ?"  he  tlionglit,  as  lie  took  np  a  book  to  while  away 
tlie  tedious  hours. 

It  was  the  loucrest  clay  that  he  ever  reniembered  in 
his  life.  He  tried  to  read,  and  ])itelied  the  book  from 
him  ill  disgust;  he  plajedcliesswitli  his micle, yawned 
ill  liis  face,  and  lost  every  game.  Augusta  played  for 
him.  but  when  she  was  done  he  coukl  not,  to  save  his 
life,  have  told  whether  it  was  "  GUI  Hundred  "  or  an 
overture  from  "II  Trovatore  ;"  and  the  only  thing  he 
could  lind  to  divert  his  attention  for  a  moment  was  a 
portfolio  of  drawings,  by  Jaequetta.  They  were  like 
herself — bold,  free,  and  spirited,  and  sketched  with  a 
dashing  hand.  Wild  scenes  they  were,  too  :  dismal 
mountain-gorges  yawning  darkly  between  frowning 
hills,  with  a  hjwering  sky  above,  and  fuzzy  grass  below  ; 
glimpses  of  a  troubled,  glassy,  heaving  sea,  the  black 
sky  frowning  on  the  blacker  waters,  and  on  a  single 
lone  rock  that  reared  its  white,  ghastly  head  far  out,  a 
wild,  ravenous-looking  vulture  perched,  with  hcrce, 
flaming  eyes,  and  blood-tinted  beak.  There  was  a  ship 
going  down,  and  the  blanched  faces  of  drowning  men 
flashed  above  the  inky  ocean,  their  wild  eyes  glaring  in 
the  death-agony,  their  faces  frightfully  convulsed,  until 
Disbrowe  turned  away  and  replaced  them  with  a  shud- 
der, half-expecting  to  hear  their  rejiressed  shrieks  Inirst 
from  their  quivering  lips.  Storms  of  lightning  and 
thunder  on  the  mountains,  and  purple,  livid  moon  ;  gib- 
bering ghosts  in  long  winding-sheets,  rising  from  yawn- 
ing graves — all  that  was  dismal,  and  eerie,  and  un- 
earthly, was  there,  and  all  bearing  tokens  of  a  skillful 
hand. 

"  Ugh  !"  said  Disbrowe,  replacing  them  hastily,  "  it's 
enoui»:h  to  give  me  the  nightmare  for  a  month  to  look 
at  those  ghastly,  weird  things.  Upon  my  honor,  I  be- 
lieve that  girl  is  uncanny,  as  the  IScotch  say  ;  no  reason- 
able Christian,  unless  suffering  agonies  of  remorse  or 
dyspepsia,  could  ever  fancy  such  goblin  sights.  I  Tow 
well  she  does  it,  too!  \Vhat  doesn't  she  do  well, 
though?    She  rides  like  an  Amazon;  she  plays   and 


^iii 


V} 


f 


120 


A     MYSTERY. 


■  ;V: 


v 


Bings  like  an  Italian  prima  donna',  she  draws  like 
ISalvator  Kosa  ;  she  iinrscs  like — like  licrself ;  and  she 
loves  and  hates — well,  I  can't  sav  about  tliat,  hut  I 
should  think  she  could  do  both  in  stunniiiij:  fasliion.  1 
shall  begin  to  i'eel  half-afraid  of  the  witch,  she  is  so 
clever.  Ileigho !  tliis  is  iin  awful  slow  piece  of  busi- 
ness, loitering  about  hei'e.  I  have  a  good  mind  to 
break  niy  arm,  aiid  see  if  she  would  nurse  me  like  this. 
Ten  to  one  she  would  never  come  near  me,  but  le;i.e 
me  to  the  tender  mercies  of  that  frigid  icebei-g,  Lady 
Augusta  ;  for  she's  as  full  of  streaks  as  a  tulip."  And 
yawning  drearily,  he  sauntered  oil". 

Toward  evem'ng,  he  rode  out  with  Frank  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  admired  tlie  scenery,  took  a  random, 
shot  or  two  at  a  bird,  and  returned  to  tea,  hoping  and 
wishing  that  he  might  see  Jaccpietta.  JJut  Jacquetta 
did  not  appear;  and  more  disaj^jtointed  than  he  would 
have  been  willing  to  acknowledge,  he  retired  at  last. 
lie  feared  he  had  angei-ed  her,  and  he  wanted  a  recon- 
ciliation. IJe  wondered  how  she  would  meet  hin)  next 
— whether  with  her  pi(piant,  saucy  smile,  or  with  iiery 
eyes  and  burning  cheeks,  as  he  had  seen  lier  last.  Uut 
he  could  not  answer  the  question  ;  for  never  was  an 
April  day  half  so  fickle  as  she. 

That  night,  he  lay  awake  listening  and  hoping  for 
a  repetition  of  the  mysterious  music;  but  he  listened 
and  hoped  in  vain.  The  silence  was  undisturbed  and 
unbroken  all  night  long. 

"  1  wonder  if  1  will  see  her  to-day  ?"  was  his  first 
thought  on  awakening ;  and  tlien  he  laughed  at  him- 
self for  the  restless  anxiety  he  felt  for  her  return. 
"  Certcs,  Alfred  Disbrowe !  Take  care  this  red-haired 
damsel  does  not  captivate  you,  after  all !  What  is  she 
to  you  that  you  should  care  whether  you  ever  see  her 
again  or  not  ^  What  can  she  ever  be  to  you  more  than 
slie  is  now  ?  Take  care,  my  boy,  or  you  may  lind  your- 
self in  a  fix  before  you  know  it." 

As  he  entered  the  breakfast  }>arlor,  he  looked  eagerly 
around,   but  no  Jacquetta  was  to  be  seen.    Mr.  Do 


>w 


I 


A     MYSTERY. 


127 


'I 


Vcre  was  there,  reading  some  English  papers  ,  and 
Frank  sat  pulling  the  ears  of  his  favorite  terrier 
tlirongli  liis  lingers.  Augusta  entered,  pale,  and  cold, 
and  stately,  as  ever,  a  lew  moments  alter,  and  ac- 
knowledged their  sahitations  hy  a  slight  bend  of  her 
haughty  head,  and  silently  took  her  place  at  the  head 
of  the  table. 

''Is  Jacquetta  not  coming  down!"  said  Mr.  De 
Vere,  as  he  took  his  seat ;  and,  strange  to  say,  ])is- 
browe's  heart  gave  a  sudden  bound  at  the  mention  of 
her  name. 

"No,"  said  Frank,  sipping  his  coffee;  "I  don't 
think  she  will  be  down  at  all,  to-day.  She  and  that 
good-looking  chap  with  the  broken  arm  are  keeping 
each  other  company.  She  let  me  in  the  room  yester- 
day, and  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  happy  they  were 
together." 

A  sickening  feeling  of  disappointment  came  over 
Disbrowe.  Had  he  seen  Jacquetta  every  day,  and 
every  time  he  chose,  it  is  proba!)le  he  would  liave  felt 
l)erfectly  indifferent  about  it — careless  when  she  came, 
and  whither  she  went ;  but  now  she  had  spirited  her- 
self away,  totally  neglected  him,  and  devoted  herself 
assiduously  to  this  provokingly  handsome  stranger. 
Captain  Disbrowe's  vanity  was  wounded ;  he  felt 
irritated  to  liear  she  could  laugh  and  enjoy  herself 
while  he  was  wandering  about  so  lonely  and  ennuled ; 
and  more  irritated  still  that  she  admitted  Frank,  and 
kept  him  out ;  and  so,  a  little  angrv,  and  a  good  deal 
jealous,  he  arose  in  a  decidedly  ferocious  mood,  and 
lialf  resolved  to  leave  his  ungrateful  little  cousin  to  her 
own  devices  and  Spanish  lovers,  and  post  back  full 
speed  to  England  again,  where  young  ladies  know  how 
to  treat  their  guests  in  a  Christian  fashion.  There  is 
many  a  Disbrowe  in  the  world,  quite  as  inconsistent 
as  he. 

He  thought  better  of  going  to  England,  however, 
and  ordered  his  horse,  instead,  for  a  gallop  across  the 
country,  to  exorcise  the  demons  of  ennui  and  chagrin. 


128 


A     MYSTERY. 


■AM 


ms 


This  tiiriG  liG  did  not  fail  to  take  his  pistole,  and  keep 
liis  eye  about  liiiii,  and  felt,  in  liis  present  tierce  mood, 
as  if  would  l)e  i-ather  a  relief  ^'Iian  otherwise  to  have  a 
fracas  with  "  Old  jS^ick,"  to  put  his  stai^natiii*^  blood  in 
circulation,  if  for  nothing  else;  and  indeed,  in  his  state 
of  mind  at  that  moment,  he  would  have  fou>id  it  rather 
pleasant  than  otherwise  to  shoot  somebody. 

So  he  rode  on,  at  an  exceedingly  leisurely  pace, 
looking  around  him  now  and  then,  and  trying  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  hate,  detest,  and  abhor  this  uncivilized 
cousin  of  his,  and  contrasting  her  in  his  own  mind  with 
the  dijg^nilied,  languid,  high-bred  Lady  Gertrudes  and 
Lady  Margai-ets  of  his  acfpiaintance,  and  drawing  con- 
clusions anything  but  Mattering  to  her  by  the  contrast, 
wdien  the  thunderinijc  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  dashing 
down  the  rocks  behind  him  made  him  turn  round,  and 
he  beheld  the  object  of  his  thoughts,  mounted  on  her 
spirited  little  black  Arabian,  sweeping  on  toward  him. 
How  bright,  how  charming,  how  ahnost  beautiful  she 
looked  at  that  moment,  all  alire  with  life  and  health, 
and  bounding  spirits.  It  Hashed  across  him  in  an  in- 
stant, and  cwQYy  pulse  gave  an  electric  throb  and  leap  at 
the  sight,  as  though  she  had  imparted  some  of  her  own 
exultant,  joyous  life  to  his  languid  self. 

"  A  race !  a  race  !  a  steeplechase !  Come  on,  cousin 
Alfred!"  she  shouted;  and  as  she  swept  thundering 
past  she  raised  her  whip  and  gave  his  mettled  horse  a 
cut  that  sent  him  oif  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow. 

With  the  ringing  ''  Taily-ho  V  of  a  fox-hunter  she 
urged  both  horses  .on,  a!i<l  away  they  sped  at  a  dizzy 
j^ace.  Disbrowe's  blood  rose,  ids  eye  kindled  with  ex- 
citement, and  pressing  his  hat  down  over  his  brows,  he 
gathered  up  the  loose  reins,  and  forgot  everything  but 
the  maddening  excitement  of  the  race.  On  and  on 
they  liew,  passing  rocks,  and  valleys,  and  marshes,  and 
moors,  and  over  roads,  keeping  neck  for  neck,  both 
ursjing  their  liorses  to  the  utmost  in  their  elforts  to 
conquer.  Away  and  away,  as  if  winging  over  moun- 
tain   gorges,  and     chasms,   and    fences,  and   ditches 


I 


.1     MYSTHHY. 


129 


'i 


a 


takinjT  everythiiii^  before  tlieiii  I  A  look  of  detcrniiiUMl 
resolution  sottlo<l  on  the  fiuics  of  both,  as  they  spcl  on, 
timt  showed  they  would  never  give  u})  while  their 
liorses  could  stand,  and  with  whip  and  spur,  and  voiee, 
they  dashed  madly  on,  heedless  of  everything  in  their 
furious  career. 

Suddeidy,  Disbrowe  checked  his  liorse  so  quickly 
and  shnrply  that  he  almost  fell  back  on  his  haun(dies, 
conlident  that  the  mad  "  steeple-chase '"  was  then  and 
there  brought  to  an  end. 

An  immense  gorge,  an  awful  precipice,  yawned  be- 
fore them,  fnll  titty  feet  deep,  and  liued  with  sharp, 
projectiug  rocks,  at  tlie  bottom  of  which  roared  a  mad, 
foaming  torrent,  swollcjn  and  resistless  by  the  late 
spriug  rains.  It  was  a,  leap — with  all  Jiis  boldness — he 
would  not  take,  for  a  single  false  step  would  have 
hurled  him  to  certain  death.  He  had  managed  to  get  a 
few  yards  in  advance  of  Jacquetta,  and  now  he  looked 
round  to  shout  his  victory,  when,  to  his  horror  and  as- 
tonishment, he  saw  her  rein  back  her  hoi-se  for  the 
fearful  leap,  and  the  next  moment,  with  a  high,  deiiant 
cry,  she  had  vaulted  over  the  terrible  gorge  ! 

''Beat!"  she  shouted,  as  she  took  oif  her  plumed 
riding-hat  and  waving  it  exultinglv  above  lier  head, 
"beat!  hnrrah  !" 

Disbrowe  had  sat  frozen  with  horror  to  Ids  seat,  at 
the  mad  leap,  and  saw  with  a  shudder  her  horse's  hind 
feet  graze  the  very  edge  of  the  frightful  chasm.  But  at 
]»er  victorious  shout,  the  danger  was  forgotten,  and  the 
blood  rushed  in  a  torrent  to  his  very  temples. 

"11a!  ha!  A  I)e  Vere  against  a  Disbrowe,  any 
day,"  laughed  Jacquetta,  on  the  other  side,  as  she  reined 
np  her  panting  steed.  "It's  the  old  story  of  America 
against  Eng»"and  again,  and  America  is  victorious  !  Hur- 
rah for  the  Stars  and  Stripes !  I  say,  Cousin  Al  fred,  how 
do  you  liiul  yourself^"  And  she  leaned  back  and 
laughed  innnoderately  at  his  mortilied  face. 

""  Conquered,"  said  Disbrowe;,  taking  off  his  hat  and 
bowing  with  courtly  grace ;  "  but  I  only  imitate  the 

6» 


/ 


130 


A     MTSTKRY 


i^:..'l 


I     '■ 


'  '  \  m.' 


example  of  all  the  rest  of  iiuiiikind,  in  being  conquered 
by  you." 

"  Thiit's  very  pretty,  indeed,"  said  Jacquetta  ;  "  but 
fctill  it  doesn't  cover  the  disi^raee  of  beinj^  beaten — and. 
by  a  girl  too.  Oli,  Cousin  Alfred  !  1  thought  better 
things  of  you  than  this.  It  i.s  well  for  you  your  lady- 
love is  not  here,  to  witness  your  defeat." 

"I  wish  I  could  induce  you  to  bear  that  title,  my 
dauntless  little  cousin,"  said  J3isbrowe,  gallantly. 

"^o,  thank  you.  1  had  rather  be  excused.  I 
shouldn't  admire  being  the  lady-love  of  any  one  I  could 
beat  so  easily,"  said  Jacquetta. 

"  As  you  are  strong,  be  merciful,"  said  Disbrowe, 
riding  slowly  up  to  where  t!ie  chasm  narrowed,  and 
leaping  across  ;  '•  but  you  don't  call  that  an  easy  victory, 
do  you  ^  One  inch  further,  and  where  would  you  bo 
now  ?" 

"  In  heaven,  very  likely,"  said  Jacquetta,  measuring 
the  distance  with  her  eye.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  it's  a 
leap  I  wouldn't  attempt  in  my  cooler  moments ;  but  I 
forgot  everj'thing  in  the  excitement  of  the  race,  and 
would  have  taken  it  even  had  1  been  sure  of  being 
dashed  to  the  bottom.  Who  wouldn't  prefer  death  to 
defeat  f  she  said,  with  a  Hashing  eye. 

"  Well,  I,  for  one,"  said  Disbrowe,  in  his  customary 
careless  tone.  "  I  have  an  unlimited  amount  of  faith  in 
the  old  maxim — 


1' '  I 


*'  'lie  that  fights  and  runs  away, 
May  live  to  tight  another  day.'  " 

"  Your  countrymen  seem  to  believe  unanimously 
in  that,"  said  Jacquetta,  with  one  of  her  sly,  provoking 
glances;  ''they  ought  to  have  it  inscribed  under  the 
lion  and  unicorn,  and  on  all  their  banners ;  for  it  was 
their  motto  constantly,  until  they  got  their  walking 
papers  from  these  American  shores." 

"  There  was  some  pretty  hard  fighting  too,"  said 
Disbrowe,  nettled.      "  Your  American   friends  didn't 


I 


A     MYSTpniY. 


ini 


r 


4 


have  tiling's  all  their  own  way,  and  liad  a  pretty  long 
reekoning  to  pay  at  the  end.  A  set  of  i-ai^^aninthns, 
fresh  from  the  ])low — one-half  of  them — who  hardly 
knew  even  what  they  were  liuhtini!:  for." 

"Didn't  they,"  Faid  Jaeljnetta.  "That's  all  yuu 
know  about  it.  Thtu  foiiuht  fi»r  God  and  their 
country  ;  you)'  friends  for — a  shilJiuL^  a  day  !" 

An  angry  cry  I'ose  to  Disbrowe's  lips,  and  then  re- 
membering he  was  speaking  to  a  lady,  he  cheeked  him- 
self, and  gave  his  horse  a  cut  with  his  whip,  that  sent 
him  on  some  yards  in  advance  before  he  could  stop 
himself.  Jac(]uctta  looked  after  him ;  and  the  old 
tantalizing,  malicious  smile  he  had  learned  to  know  so 
well  now,  curled  her  pretty  ii[)s. 

"  You'll  spoil  that  line  gray  if  you  use  him  like 
that,"  she  said,  as  she  again  joined  him ;  "  what  did 
the  ])Oor  thing  do  to  merit  that  i  You  ought  to  have 
laid  it  over  my  shoulders  instead." 

"1  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Jacquetta;  but  really,  I 
forget  myself  sometimes ;  and  you  are — if  you'll  excuse 
my  saying  it — giv^cn  to  saying  things  not  calculated  to 
soothe  sensitive  minds,  and — " 

"  You're  proud,  and  got  a  shocking  bad  temper,  and 
are  not  used  to  be  talked  to  in  that  fashion,"  inter- 
rupted Jacquetta.  "  Well,  Cousin  Alt",  I've  seen 
people  when  they  had  a  pain  in  one  place,  applying  a 
blister  to  another,  as  a  counter-irritant;  and  so,  if  you 
will  look  upon  me  as  a  human  blister,  sent  on  earth  for 
your  especial  use  and  benefit,  you  will  be  apt  sooner  to 
obtain  the  virtue  of  resignation,  which,  together  with 
patience  and  modesty,  are  beautiful  things  in  young 
men.  And  now,  to  change  the  subject,  why  don't  you 
ask  after  our  young  hero  of  the  wounded  arm  ?" 

"  Because  1  had  given  up  all  hopes  of  ever  liearing 
or  seeing  anything  of  him  again ;  and  knowing  he  was 
in  good  hands,  1  thought  inquiry  unnecessary  and  im- 
pertinent," said  Disbrowe. 

"  Ah,  well,  then  I  shan't  tell  you  anything  about 
hiui.     How  did  you  pass  the  time  yesterday  ?" 


•i  ! 


1 


1  "O 


A     MTSTFAIY. 


"Mirs  Augusta  played  f(»r  ino ;  I  ]i;ul  a  _i;:iir.;'  of 
cliL'SS,  ami  rode  out  in  the  atteriioou,  and  ]);issed  it  alto- 
gether ])leasantly  eii(»ui;li.  Vou  enjoyed  yourself  very 
niueh,  too,  "with  your  h;indsonie  patient,  Frank  s;iys. 
AVhat  a  fortunate  fellow  he  is,  to  he  sure  !" 

The  meaning  tone  in  which  the  last  words  Avero 
uttered,  inndc;  Jaccpietta  look  up,  and  her  faee  Hushed 
isearlet  iis  she  met  his  knowinu:  eyes.  For  one  instant 
her  eyes  Hashed  lire,  and  there  was  a  })assionate  motion 
of  her  arm  ;  but  the  next,  as  if  another  thought  had 
struek  her,  she  eheekcd  herself,  and  laughed  aloud. 

"What  a  far-seeinuc,  elear-sii/hted  thinijc  man  is  I" 
she  said  seornfully.  "O  wise  young  judge  !  And  bo 
you  woiikl  iniply  that  Jaek  Dc  Vere  has  found  u 
patient  and  lost  her  heart  both  together.  ]\lafol! 
what  a  thing  it  is  to  see  through  a  mill-stone !" 

It  was  Disbrovre's  turn  to  feel  embarrassed  for  a 
moment;  but  that  young  gentleman's  sang  f raid  and 
admirable  nonchalance  seldom  deserted  him  for  many 
seconds  at  a  time,  so  the  next  he  replied,  iu  his  cus- 
tomary tone  of  easy  coniidence. 

"i^Iot  exactly,  Miss  Jae(pietta;  for  the  very  serious 
I'easou  that  1  very  much  doubt  whether  you  have  a 
heart  at  all." 

''  liccausc  I  am  insensible  to  the  manifold  attractions 
and  fascinations  of  the  Honorable  Alfred  Disbrowe, 
and  have  not  fallen  down  at  his  feet  and  worshiped, 
as  so  many  of  my  sensible  and  lovable  sex  have  already 
done '^  Is  that  the  reason  i"  shcsaid,  with  r  short  laugh. 

"■  Not  at  all,"  said  Disbrowe;  but  it  was  so  near  the 
truth  that  he  had  to  laugh,  too.  "  You  do  notsuj)pose 
I  have  such  an  inordiuiite  share  of  vanity  as  toinuiginc 
I  could  ever  touch  your  heart  i" 

"  Well,  there's  no  saying.  I  think  it  very  likely 
you  could  stretch  your  faith  even  to  a  pinnacle  so  ab- 
surdly high  as  that.  Men  are  such  a  set,  composed 
of  vanity  and  whiskers,  every  mother's  son  of  'em  1" 
said  Jacquetta. 


) 


1-    , 


.1     MYHTERT. 


\'.\\\ 


^ 


"  A  swooping  assortlon,  tliat.  And  ;iin  I  set  down 
in  tlKit  eatalo_L!;u(j  f '  said  Di.shi'owe. 

"Yt>»i^  Oil,  well,  I  don't  know.  [  luivon't  taU.Mi 
tlio  trouble  to  {lii-.ik  al);»ut  it  yot,"  said  Jacqiiotta,  in  :i 
tone  of  prov(;kinL!;  in(.iiilvrcn('o.  ''  It  i.s  probable  that  \i 
ever  1  do,  such  will  bo  iny  decision.  l>iit  look  tlien;'' 
— and  she  pointed  with  her  whip — "there  is  the  very 
Qae<ni  of  the  Kelpies,  takini,^  an  aii'inj:; !'' 

Disbrowe  looked,  and  saw,  to  his  ^.urprisc,  tlic  little 
girl  Orrie,  of  the  hjiie  house,  b(»uiidiiig,  llying,  leaping 
with  the  agility  of  a  mountain  kid,  over  the  rocks — 
lier  long,  eliisli  locks  unbound,  and  streaming  around 
her  little  ellish  face,  with  its  superuaturally  large,  bright, 
glittering  black  eves. 

"  Hallo!  little'Oriolc,  by  all  that's  startling.  Where 
did  that  little  Witch  of  Endorstai-t  frou]  {  1  say,  Orrie, 
Orrie!     Come  here." 

The  little  girl  heard  his  shout;  and,  turning  round, 
shaded  her  eyes  with  her  liand  from  the  sun,  and 
peered  at  him;  then,  with  a  glad  cry  of  recognition, 
she  darted  over  the  rocks,  and  in  an  instant  had  seized 
the  stirrup,  swung  herself  up  before  him  on  his  horse, 
flung  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  gave  the  astonished 
and  laughing  young  Englishman  a  crushing  hug. 

"  Upon  my  ward,"  said  Jaccpietta,  '"an  enthusiastic 
welcome." 

Orrie  turned  round  and  peered  at  Jacrpietta,  and 
laughed,  and  nodded,  and  clung  closer  to  Disbrowe. 

'"And  so  you  are  glad  to  see  me,  Orrie  C  said  Dis- 
browe, still  laughing.'  "  Where  in  the  world  did  you 
drop  from  on  these  bare  rocks  ^     Not  from  the  sky  f 

"  Lor',  no  !"  said  Orrie,  in  contempt  at  the  idea. 
"  Old  Grizzle  whii)ped  me,  and  I  ran  olf— I  always  do, 
when  she  whips  me,  the  ugly  old  thing.  I  shan't  go 
back,  either,  till  it's  dark." 

"  AVell,  wou't  she  whip  you  again,  then  ?"  said  Dis- 
browo. 

"No;  Uuclo  Till  won't  let  her.     He'll  be  there; 


i 


,1' 


I  ■ 


I 


134 


A     MYSTERY. 


m 


and  he  likes  mo.  1  wisli  you  would  give  mc  a  ride  on 
your  lior.se.     Will  your' 

"'  Certainly,"  said  Disbrowe,  moving  on.  "  AVIiy, 
Orric,  1  thought  you  liad  forgotten  all  about  me  ere 
this." 

"1  guess  I  hairrt,"  said  Orrie,  soberly,  turning 
round  to  give  him  another  kiss,  and  then  elapping  her 
hands  to  make  the  horse  go  faster.  "  Tve  been  tiiink- 
ing  about  you  ever  since.  Oh  !  what  a  nice  horse  to  go 
this  is  !" 

"  And  have  you  no  kindly  greeting  for  me,  Orrie '^" 
said  flacquetta.     ''Is  he  to  receive  all  your  attention  T 

"  Oil,"  siiid  Orrie,  ''  everyl)ody  says  you  don't  care 
for  anybody,  and  don't  want  kisses  or  nothiu'." 

"And  so,  i^ecause  1  don't  care  for  anybody,  no  one 
is  to  love  me  C  said  Jacquetta,  in  something  so  like  a 
sorrowful  tone  that  Disbrowe  looked  at  her,  surprised 
at  her  heediii<»' tlie  little  elfs  words. 

lie  spoke  to  her,  but  she  replied  brietly ;  and  for 
nearly  halt'  an  hour  she  rode  l)eside  them  in  silence, 
and  with  a  sortoi'  dark  gloom  shadowing  her  face. 

Little  Orrie  prattled  continually,  giving  Disbrowe 
occasional  embraces  to  lill  up  the  pauses,  until  Jac- 
quetta  almost  coldly  suggested  their  return. 

"There  now,  Orrie,  will  you  be  able  to  lind  your 
way  back,  do  you  think  ^"  said  Disbrowe,  as  she  sprang 
down  in  a  llying  leap. 

"  Be  sure  1  will,"  siid  Orrie.  "  Good-bye.  I'll  come 
to  see  you,  some  day." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  tlie  young  gentleman,  laughing. 

And  tlie  next  instant  she  was  bounding  and  hopping 
like  a  black  bird  from  rock  to  rock. 

The  same  look  of  dark  gloom  still  lay  on  the  bright 
face  of  Jac(pietta,  as  they  turned  toward  Fontelle;  and 
until  half  the  way  was  over,  she  never  spoke,  save  to 
brielly  answer  his  questions.     At  last  he  said  : 

"  Vou  seem  strangely  out  of  spirits,  my  dear  cousin. 
May  1  ask  what  is  the  matter  C 

"  I  am  thinking  of  that  child  and  her  words,"  said 


\ 


A    MYSTERY. 


135 


Jacqnctta.  "  Soiiieliow,  the  siglit  of  that  little  girl 
always  allects  me  slraugely  ;  soiuething  in  those  eerie 
black  eyes  of  hers  almost  frightens  me.  A  strange 
feeling,  is  it  not '(  I  wish  you  could  tell  me  what  it 
means."' 

"  1  wish  I  could,"  said  Disbrowe.  "  Perhaps  she  is 
your  si)i ritual  affinity,  wJiatever  that  is.  Frank  says 
she  looks  like  you." 

'•  Who  don't  1  look  like 'i"  said  Jacquetta,  looking 
up  and  breaking  into  a  laugh.  "  I  am  the  image  of 
Captain  Nick  Tempest  and  little  Orrie  llowlet,  and, 
consetpiently,  a  cross  between  a  ilemon  and  a  goblin. 
I  won't  think  of  it,  thougli  ;  and  now,  that  being  gone, 
I  am  myself  again.  1*11  race  you  home,  Cousin  Altred  ; 
or  have  vou  had  enouii-h  of  racini::  for  one  while  C 

'"No;  1  must  have  my  revenge,  and  retrieve  my 
wounded  honor.     ISo  lead  oJf.'' 

With  a  laugh  and  a  cheer,  Jacquetta  started,  and 
both  galloped  on  over '' brake,  brush,  ;ind  scaur  "  at  a 
reckless,  headlong  ])ace,  keeping  neck  and  neck  until 
Fontelle  was  reached. 

"  Unrevenged  yet !"  exclaimed  Disbrowe,  striking 
an  attitude,  as  Jac(pietta,  declining  his  aid,  leaped 
lightly  oif  her  horse,  and  ran  up  the  steps  and  entered 
the  house. 

With  a  sau(;y  nod  of  her  curly  head,  Jacouetta  dis- 
appeared, and  passed  on  until  she  reached  Augusta's 
room,  and  there  she  paused  and  knocked  softly. 

There  was  no  res])onse,  and  she  knocked  again, 
more  loudly.  IStill  there  was  no  reply  ;  andJacquetta 
turned  the  handle  and  entered. 

And  there  a  terrible  sight  met  her  i^yo^^. 

On  the  floor  lay  Augusta,  i)rone  on  her  face,  her 
whole  form  writhing  like  one  in  unenduralde  agony, 
her  lonir,  wild,  black  hair  streaming  unbound  around 
her,  her  hands  clenched  till  her  delicate  veins  stood  out 
like  whip-cord,  every  motion  (puvering  with  unbear- 
able torture.     Startled  and  alarmed — all^eit  both  to  her 


\ 


ahJlaiSi^9ta^^Sb< 


136 


A     MYSTERT. 


wero  minsi.ial  — J;icqnctta  went  over,  and  catching  her 
arm,  exehiinicd  : 

"  Au/,ni8ta  !" 

With  a  fearful  shriek  and  maddened  bonnd,  she  was 
Oil  her  feet,  confrontini^  her — lier  beautiful  face  difs- 
torted  witli  anu^ui.^li  and  remorse — her  whole  counte- 
nance so  altered  and  terrible,  that  Jacquetta  involuntarily 
recoiled  a  step  as  she  beheld  her. 

"  Auiijnsta  !  Anirusta  !  Good  heavens !  what  is  the 
mcaninji;  of  this  V^  cried  Jacquetta. 

Uut  Aui^nsta,  with  a  wild,  moaniiig  cry,  sank  down 
on  a  seat,  and  with  a  convulsive  shudder  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

"  Auiijusta,  my  sister !  tell  me  what  has  wronc^ht  this 
frightful  change  in  you — once  so  cold,  so  calm,  so 
proud,  so  fpieenly." 

"Ctuilt!''  cried  Augusta,  dashing  away  Jacquetta's 
clinging  hand;  "guilt  so  black,  so  foul,  so  horrible, 
that  tlie  very  fiends  themselves  would  shudder  at  it ; 
guilt  that  it  would  curdle  your  biciod,  freeze  your  heart, 
blight  your  soul,  to  hear;  guilt,  the  very  name  of 
which,  if  name  it  have,  it  would  blister  and  blacken 
my  lips  to  utter!  (ro  ;  leave  me!  I.  ask  nothing;  I 
want  nothing  but  to  be  alone — and  die  !'' 

And  with  a  cry  of  despair  she  sank  down  again, 
shuddering,  and  collapsed. 

Jac(pietta  stepped  back,  and  calmly  regarded  her. 

"  You  arc  insane,  Augusta,  or  in  the  delirium  of  a 
brain  fev^er.     I  shall  send  for  a  doctor." 

"  Oh,  leave  me !  leave  me !  leave  mo !"  moaned 
Angus  a,  in  a  dying  voice. 

"  Ki)t  in  this  state.  I  should  bo  as  nuid  as  you  if  I 
did.  1  will  stay  up  with  you  until  you  come  to  your 
senses,"  said  Jacquetta,  sitting  down. 

The  invincible  determination  in  her  voice  seemed 
to  pierce  through  every  other  feel'ig  in  the  reeling 
brain  of  Augusta.  She  lifted  up  her  face,  and,  witli  a 
buddenucbs  that  was  more   startlinir  than  her  former 


A    MYSTERY. 


187 


paroxysms   of   anguish    and   despair,   rose    calm   and 
liauii,liti!j  to  her  feet. 

'•  Will  you  leave  me,  Jacquetta?  I  wisli  to  be  alone. 
Go !" 

"  Augusta,  let  me  stay  !  indeed,  your  mind  is  wander- 
ing ;  let  me  stay  !" 

Witliout  a  word,  and   with  a  look  of  one  petrified  . 
to  stone,  Augusta  swept  across  the  room,  and  laid  her 
hand  on  the  door. 

."  Nay,  then,  if  you  will  not  remain  with  me,  I  will 
not  send  you  from  your  room,"  said  Jacquetta,  in  a 
troubled  voice,  as  she,  too,  started  up.  "  Do  not  go, 
Augusta.  I  will  leave  you.  Hut,  Oh,  my  dearest  sister, 
is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  r'  she  said,  beseech- 
ingly, clasping  her  hands. 

"  Nothing,  but  leave  me." 

AVitli  a  sigh,  Jacquetta  left  the  room,  and  sho 
heard  the  key  turned  behind  her  in  the  lock. 

The  proud  h(>art  of  Augusta  I)e  Vere  might  bleed 
and  break,  ])ut  it  could  do  both  alone. 

She  turned  away,  and  passed  on  to  the  room  of  her 
patient,  where  she  found  that  handsome  youth  fast 
asleep;  and,  seeing  her  presence  was  not  required  theio 
cither,  she  iinally  sought  her  own  room. 

It  was  rather  dull  down  stairs  that  evening,  for 
neither  Augusta  nor  Jacquetta  appeared  at  all,  J\lr.  Do 
Vere  and  Frank  both  retired  early  ;  and  so  Captain 
Disbrowe  was  left  alone,  in  no  very  angelic  frame  of 
mind,  to  wander  throunjh  the  lower  rooms  and  amuse 
himself  as  l)est  he  might,  and  wish  Jacquetta  would 
join  him  ;  but  no  Jacciuetta  came.  At  length,  putting 
on  '•'-  hat,  he  set  olf  for  a  stroll,  with  his  own  thouglus 
for  company. 

It  was  a  clear,  starlit  night,  mild  and  warm  as  June  ; 
and  tempted  by  its  quiet  beauty,  he  walked  on  and  on, 
returning,  at  last,  by  the  north  wing,  that,  in  its  gloomy 
silencA',  liad  a  stranim  fascination  for  him.  While  ho 
stood  leaning  against  a  broken  pillar,  hxtking  up  at  it, 
ho  became  conscious  of  voices  near  him  ;  and  a  moment 


I 


I'  I 


"•IP 


138 


A    MYSTERY. 


!   I' 


i:hi 


after  two  dai-k  forms  appeared  from  within  the  shelter 
of  a  low,  ruined  wall,  overrun  with  ivy.  One  was  tho 
tall  form  of  a  man,  muffled  in  a  eloak,  and  wearing  a 
slouched  hat  drawn  down  over  his  face,completelj  hiding 
it  from  view,  and  the  other  was — could  lie  believe  his 
ejes  ? — the  stately  form  of  his  proud  Cousin  Augusta  ! 

Even  in  his  surprise — and  it  was  intense — he  saw 
that  they  seemed  to  shrink  from  each  other  with  a  sort 
of  dread,  or  horror,  or  fear  ;  and  that  both  were  ex- 
tremely agitated.  Once  he  saw  his  cousin  stop  and 
make  a  frantic,  passionate  gesture,  as  if  she  would  have 
hurled  herself  madly  ujjon  the  stones  at  her  feet,  and 
the  man  put  out  his  arm  as  if  to  catch  her,  and  then 
draw  it  back,  and  recoil  still  farther  from  her.  Then 
they  turned  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  disappeared ;  and 
he  was  alone  in  the  light  of  the  bright,  beautiful  stars, 
that  looked  serenely  down  on  that  stra.ige  meeting,  as 
they  have  looked  upon  many  others  since  the  world  be- 
gun. 

With  an  irresistible  impulse,  he  turned  to  follow 
them  ;  but  both  were  gone — vanislied  like  phantoms  of 
the  night ;  and  he  turned  to  retrace  his  steps,  wonder- 
ing inwardly  whe^e  the  secrets  of  this  strange  old  house 
were  to  end. 


A    DI6C0VEUT. 


139 


CHAPTER  XL 


CAPTAIN   DISBROAVE   MAKES    A   DISCOVERY. 


.  f 


-I. 


**  All !  did  we  take  for  Heaven  above 
I>ut  li!ilf  sucli  pains  as  we 
Take,  day  and  night,  for  woman's  love, 
What  angels  we  should  be." — MooitE. 


•1^ 


TIE  top  of  the  morniu'  to  yc,  captain,  dar- 
liii' !"  said  II  voice,  in  ii  sliij^litly  foreign 
accent.  And  the  next  nionicnt,  Master 
Frank,  with  a  wlioop  that  spoke  well  for 
the  strength  of  his  hmgs,  sprung  up  tlie 
front  steps,  and  stood  beside  Disbrowe,  wlio  was  loung- 
ing indolently  against  one  of  the  quaint  okl  pillars  sup- 
porting the  doorway,  looking  at  the  north  wing,  and 
thinking  of  the  little  incident  of  the  previous  night. 

"  The  same  to  yourself,  my  sprig  of  shillelah,"  said 
Disbrowe,  lifting  his  eyes,  but  without  moving  from 
his  lazy  position. 

"  I  say,  Frank,"  he  added  suddenly,  "  do  you  know 
anything  about  that  mysterious  old  tower  or  wing  over 
there?     I  think  there's  something  wrong  about  it." 

"Why?"  asked  Frank,  casting  an  uneasy  look,  first 
on  the  speaker,  and  then  on  the  place  indicated. 

"  Well,  from  nothing  that  1  know  of  my  own  knowl- 
edge, of  course,"  replied  Disl)r()we  ;  "  but  it  has  a  con- 
foundedly suspicious  ghostly  look  about  it  for  one  thing, 
and  I  saw  something  strange  there  a  few  nights  ago." 

"You  did!"  said  Frank,  with  a  start.  "What 
was  it  ?" 

"  A  light!" — said  Disbrowe, taking  out  a  cigar,  aiul 
biting  the  end  off—"  a  light  passing  the  front  window, 


'1|| 


.1 


•'    ■'i 


140 


CAPTAIN    DISBROWE 


;!  >< 


;  I 


and  sliiniiifi^  tliroiii^li  the  ivy  leaves.  It  was  late — about 
niltlni^.;ht,  1  think — and,  not  feeling  sleepy,  I  had  turned 
out  to  admire  the  l)eauties  of  Nature,  and  look  at  the 
moon,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  when,  to  my  sur})rise, 
I  saw  a  light  Hashing  through  the  windows,  and  then 
disappe;iring." 

"(Jh,  ])ooh  !— a  will-o'-the-Av'isp — an  ignis  fatuus — 
a  jaek-o'-lantern,"  said  Frauk,  giving  himself  an  uneasy 
twist. 

"It  was  a  jaek-o'-lantcru  with  a  vengeance !"  said 
Dishrowe,  laughing. 

''  Kh  f  said  Trunk,  lookii.g  sharply  up. 

"My  dear  young  friend,"  said  Captain  Disl)rowe, 
lighting  his  cigar,  and  drawing  a  few  whilfs,  "  allow  me 
to  say  that  hreaking  yo'jrself  of  that  nasty  habit  of 
speaking  in  abrupt  jjrks  would  be  a  good  thing  to  do. 
Ir  gives  me  a  sensation  akin  to  a  galvanic  shock,  or  a 
twinge  of  toothache,  to  listen  to  you,  \  was  informing 
you,  1  believe,  that  I  saw  a  light  in  that  old  deserted 
place  there,  if  1  don't  mistake,  which  piece  of  informa- 
tion allow  me  to  repeat  now,  if  yon  did  not  clearly  com- 
jrehend  it  the  lirst  time." 

"  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  servants,"  said  Frank, 
taking  out  a  knil'e,  and  comniencnig  to  whittle. 

"  Perha[)S,"  said  Captain  Disljrowe,  with  a  dubious 
smile,  as  he  meditatively  watched  the  wreaths  of  smoke 
curling  upward. 

"  Yon  don't  believe  nie  V  said  Frank,  looking  at 
him. 

"  i\ly  dear  boy,"  said  the  young  officer,  in  his  cool, 
careless  way,  "■  you  don't  suppose  1  could  possibly  be 
BO  impolite  as  to  doubt  your  word?  At  the  same  time, 
my  amiable  young  friend,  allow  me  to  ask  you  if  your 
servants  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  nocturnal  excursions 
through  those  deserted  rooms,  or  what  possible  reason 
— since  they  have  been  deserted  for  the  last  twenty 
years — they  can  have  at  all  for  going  there '^" 

Frank  looked  cautiously  over  his  shoulder  for  a 
moment,  to  see  that  do  one  was  listening,  and  then 


MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 


141 


comini^  clopor  to  DisTjrowc,  and  sinking  liis  voice  to  a' 
cautious  wliispcr,  ho  said  : 

"'I  tell  jou  what.  Cousin  Alfn^d,  tlierc  vi  something 
queer  about  tliat  old  ])lace.  I've  always  thought  so, 
and  I've  seen  lots  of  little  things,  now  and  then,  to 
conlirni  the  belief.  I  doi/h  know  what  it  is;  and 
what's  mon^,  they  all  take  precious  good  eare  I  shan't 
know  either ;  but  Til  find  out  one  of  these  days,  as 
sure  as  my  name's  Frank  I)e  Vere — wliicli  it  ain'r,  for 
that  matter.  Jack's  j)osted,  I  know,  and  I'm  sure  she 
Las  something  to  do  with  it.  Did  you  ever  hear 
strange  sort  of  nnisic  there  of  nights^*' 

"Why?"  said  Disbrowe  evasively,  remembering  his 
promise  to  Jacquetta. 

"Because  I  have,  and  more  than  once.  "VVlien  I 
get  into  bed  I  flatter  myself  I  can  beat  any  one  to 
death  in  the  sleeping  line;  Ijut  there  have  been  times 
when  I  ^oke  up.  and  J  have  heard  the  queerest, 
solcmnest  sort  of  far-off  music  at  the  dead  of  night, 
and  1  am  quite  sure  it  came  from  some  place  around 
here.  I  asked  uncle  about  it  tlie  first  time  I  heard  it, 
and  I  wish  you  had  seen  the  look  he  gave  me,  and 
the  terrific  way  lie  thundered  :  '  I]egone,  sir!  and  hold 
your  tongue,  and  never  speak  of  such  a  thing  again  at 
youi"  peril !'  It  beat  a  stern  father  in  a  melodrama  all 
to  nothing;  so  I  bothered  him  no  more  after  that." 

"  I  wonder  you  never  asked  Jack." 

"Well,  I  don't  know;  there's  a  sort  of  touch-me- 
not  flash  in  Jack's  eyes  now  and  then  when  you  tread 
on  forbidden  ground,  and  somehow  I've  always  felt 
that  she's  more  concerned  in  this  affair  than  any  of  tho 
rest.  Of  course,  I  don't  know — I  only  guess;  and,  as 
it  happens,  I  generally  guess  pretty  accurately.  '  'Tis 
the  evening  of  life  gives  me  mystical  ^ore.'  " 

"And  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before," 
said  Disbrowe,  pointing  to  an  approachitig  sluidow ; 
and,  even  as  1 


5pok 


•que 


steps,  and  stood  bright  and  smiling  before  the 


m. 


••1 


;fli 


Bon  matin,  messieurs!     Hope  I  don't  intrude  1" 


142 


CAPTAm    DISBROWE 


vl,  ,.'• 


il'   I 


if  . 


'   » 


"Angels  can  never  be  intruders  !"  snid  Dlsbrowe, 
ilinij^ini^  Jiway  liis  ciu'ar,  and  tonehiii!^  his  hat.  "  A 
tliousaTid  welcomes,  my  bright  Aurora!" 

"Now  don't!"'  said  Jac(]U(!tta,  with  a  sHght  grimace. 
"1  can't  stand  too  umch  of  that,  you  know.  It's  like 
burnt  brandy — a  very  little  of  it  goes  along  way,  and  is 
very  Hlling  at  the  ])rice.  What  momentous aifairs  were 
you  discussing  so  learnedly  just  now,  as  I  came  up  f 

"  We  were  discussing  JMiss  Jacquetta  \)ii  Verel" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  you  could  have  found  a 
better  subject,  at  once  edifying  and  instructive.  But 
what  say  you  to  breakfast  now.  as  a  change  of  sub- 
ject V 

"  A  most  agreeable  change,"  said  Disbrowe ;  "and 
though,  perhaps,  not  so  delightful  as  the  other,  a  good 
deal  more  substantial.  1  move  an  inmiediate  adjourn- 
ment." 

"  I  second  the  motion,"  said  Frank,  shutting  up 
his  knife,  and  putting  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  AVhat  is  the  programme  for  to-day  ?"  said  Jac- 
quetta, as  they  uioved  toward  the  breakfast-parlor. 

"  Haven't*  decided  yet,"  said  Disbrowe.  "Must 
likciy  you  will  devote  yourself  solely  to  our  haiulsome 
patient,  in  which  case,  by  the  time  evening  comes,  you 
will  very  probably  lind  my  melancholy  remains  sus- 
pended from  the  nearest  tree — a  victim  to  the  blue- 
devils  and  the  most  hard-hearted  of  cousins." 

"A  consummati<.)n  devoutly  to  l)e  wished!"  said 
Jacquetta,  with  a  laugh.  "  JUit,  having  some  regard 
for  the  feelings  of  the  family,  allow  me  to  suggest  an 
alternative  to  so  direful  a  catastrophe.  I  am  going  to 
visit  one  of  my  pensioners  this  afternoon,  about  a 
mile  from  this  ;  and,  if  you  will  promise  to  be  good,  and 
not  pay  me  too  many  compliments,  you  uuiy  come.  I 
have  spoken." 

"  A  hundred  thousand  thanks,  most  angelic  of  thy 
sex  1"  said  Disbrowe,  laying  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and 
bowing  after  the  manner  of  gentlemen  on  the  stage,  who 
go  down  head  foremost,  until  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but 


A 


and 


MAKf:S    A     DISCOVFAIY, 


143 


the  tails  of  tlieir  coat.  "  I  am  ready  to  swear  by  '  all  the 
vows  tiiat  ever  men  have  broke,'  as  my  friend  Shaks- 
pere  has  it,  to  talk  ti)  order  on  any  snl)jeet,  from  love 
and  murder  down  to  tlie  latest  style  of  '  i^'eut's  superior 
vests,'  for  so  delectable  a  prlvilei^e.  I'm  ready  to  vow 
the  severest  obedience  to  all  and  every  command  that 
issue 


m; 


ly 


from  lips  so  beautiful ;  and  what's  more,  as 
my  friend  Shakspere  further  ri'm;irks,  am  ready  to 
'seal  the  bar:i;;iin  with  a  holy  kiss.'  " 

"  And  I'll  witness  the  transaction,"  said  Frank,  with 
a  chuckle.     "  But  here  comes  Gusty." 

As  he  spoke,  Augusta  swept  i)ast,  with  one  of  her 
slight,  haughty  courtesies,  and  took  her  place  at  the 
table,  followed  by  the  others.  Disbrowe  thought  of 
the  mysterious  interview  of  the  night  before,  and  looked 
at  her  curiously ;  but  the  cold,  pale  face  was  high  and 
immovable,  and  marble-like  in  its  lofty  pride  and  re- 
pelling hauteur,  ^'ot  the  faintest  trace  of  emotion  was 
visible  in  that  coldlyd)eautiful  face;  the  long,  dark 
lashes  swept  the  white  cheeks,  and  vailed  the  dusky, 
brooding  ciyes  ;  the  pale  li[)S  were  compressed — scorn- 
ing, in  tlieir  curved  pride,  all  help  and  sympathy ;  the 
shiny,  jetty  hair  was  combed  down  either  side  of  the 
high,  noble,  queenly  brow — like  alabaster  in  its  i)urity 
— and  simply  knotted  behind  the  haughty  head.  Had 
she  been  of  steel  or  stone,  she  would  have  looked  iis 
human  as  she  did  then  ;  and  yet  this  was  the  girl  he 
had  seen  ready  to  dash  herself  on  the  pitiless  rocks  the 
night  before,  in  her  intolerable  agony  of  woe  and 
despair.  She  scarcely  spoke,  or  moved,  or  lifted  her 
eyes  wdiile  she  sat  with  them — there  in  body,  but  oh, 
so  immeasurably  distant  in  spirit!  Uut  once,  in  an- 
swering some  cpiestion  of  his,  she  had  for  a  second  or 
two  looked  up,  and  then  he  saw  the  dark,  settled  night 
of  anguish  in  those  large,  melancholy  eyes. 

Jacquetta  was,  as  usual,  the  life  and  soul  of  thein 
all — keeping  up  a  constant  war  of  woi'ds,  and  a  steady 
fire  of  short,  sharp,  stinging  repartees  o  itli  the  company 
generally — sometimes  ])r(jvoki ng  Disbrowe  to  laughter, 


M, 


»,  ■ . 


I     I 


Ui 


C^l  P  7V1AY    DISBR  0  WE 


and  sometimes  to  ann;er,  and  appean'nu^  most  dcliglit- 
fully  indilierent  to  both.  Tlicu  she  undertook  to  give 
an  account  of  his  escapade  with  Captain  Nick  Temjiest 
to  his  nnclo,  brirlesquin<:^  tlie  wliolc;  affair,  and  hold in^^ 
him  especially  np  in  so  ridicnlous  a  h\^ht,  that  she  had 
the  old  cjentlenian  and  I'rank  lauirhinic  most  heartily, 
and  hiid  Dis])ro\ve  su  indignant  and  niortilied,  that  he 
conld  have  shakciii  her  then  and  there  with  a  right  good 
will.  But  thinking  it  beneath  his  dignity  as  a  man,  he 
joined  in  the  laugh  against  himself. 

After  breakfast,  the  young  lady  went  off  to  see 
Jacinto — as  she  took  the  ti'ouble  of  informing  our  gal- 
lant young  officer  before  starting;  and  he,  with  Frank, 
sauntered  out  to  a  trout-stream  the  latter  knew  of, 
where  they  could  pass  the  morning.  As  usual,  their 
theme  was  Jack  ;  and  an  inexliaustible  theme  they 
found  it,  and  miglity  interesting  to  both. 

"  8he  spoke  of  going  to  see  one  of  her  pensioners," 
said  Disbrowe.     '"  ILrw  many  has  she  got  ?" 

"  Oh,  lots !  And  a  precious  lot,  too.  There's  one 
of  them,  now,"  said  Frank,  pointing  to  a  hump-backed, 
idioticdooking  boy  who  aj^proached  them,  holding  a 
brace  of  partridges.  "  Hallo,  Dickie !  Where  are  you 
bound  for  ^" 

"•  There,"  said  the  lad,  pointing  with  a  nod  and  a 
grin  toward  Fontclle. 

"  AVho  are  the  birds  for  ?"  said  Frank,  attempting 
to  look  at  them. 

"  You  let  'cm  alone !"  said  Dickie,  dodging  back 
and  assuming  a  belligerent  attitude.  "  They're  for  her 
— Miss  Jack  ;  you  let  them  alone— will  you  ?" 

"  All  right !"  said  Frank,  laughing.  "  Go  on, 
Dickie.  Give  my  compliments  to  the  town-pump  the 
next  time  you  see  it." 

"  And  that's  one  of  her  proiorjeei^  .^"  said  Disbrowe, 
glancing  carelessly  after  him.  " /Vn  interesting  one, 
upon  my  word  !  If  ever  I  do  that  sort  of  a  thing,  I 
shall  only  adopt  pretty  little  girls." 

"  And  marry  them  when  they  grow  up  ;  not  a  bad 


rht- 


M 


and  a 


^g 


MAKES    A    DISCOVERT. 


145 


notion  tliat,"  langliod  Frank.  "  And  as  pretty  little 
girls  are  to  be  liad  for  tlie  asking,  you  will  soon  have  a 
liouset'ul.  Suppose  you  begin  with  little  Orrie  How- 
let  f' 

"  Faith,  1  shouldn't  mind.  She  came  next  door  to 
jiroposing  the  last  time  I  saw  her.  But  how  came 
Miss  Jack  to  adopt  that  picture  of  ugliness'^"  ■^' 

''  Well,  '  thereby  hangs  a  tale.'  It  was  one  day, 
about  two  years  ago,  Jack  was  down  to  Green  Creek  ; 
and  passing  by  a  tavern,  she  saw  a  lot  of  rowdies 
and  loaiers  crowding  round  poor,  silly  Dickie,  laughing, 
taunting,  jeering,  and  kicking,  and  pulling,  and  haul- 
ing the  poor  fellow  until  they  iiad  him  half  maddened. 
A  sit»;ht  like  that  was  enough  to  make  Jack's  hot  blood 
blaze :  and  in  a  moment  she  had  darted  nerceiv 
through  them,  and  stood  defending  Dick,  stamping 
her  foot,  and  blowing  them  up  right  and  left  as  only 
she  can — calling  them  a  set  of  cowards  and  rascals,  the 
whole  of  them.  I  expect  they  were  rather  startled  to 
see  such  a  little  fury,  for  all  fell  back  but  one  half- 
tipsy  fellow,  who  seized  her  by  the  arm  in  a  threaten- 
ing manner.  With  a  perfect  shriek  of  passion.  Jack 
spi'ang  back,  and  dashed  her  hand  in  his  face  with 
such  force,  that,  big  as  he  was,  he  reeled  back  and  saw 
more  stars,  1  reckon,  than  he  ever  saw  before.  Dick 
liad  taken  to  his  heels  the  moment  he  found  himself 
free  ;  so  Jacquetta,  having  stopped  to  assure  them  on(;e 
more  that  they  were  a  set  of  low,  mean,  cowardly 
knave  sto  so  abuse  Dickie,  took  her  departure,  while 
the  rest  forcibly  held  back  the  drunken  scoundrel,  who 
seemed  very  anxious  to  pommel  her." 

"  And  has  he  never  attempted  to  injure  her  since?" 
said  Disbrowe. 

"No,"  said  Frank.  "  A  very  remarkable  circum- 
stance caused  him  to  change  his  mind.  Shortly  after 
the  adventure  I  have  just  related,  news  came  that 
Goose  Creek  was  rising,  and  was  likely  to  carry  away 
the  bridge.  Jack  mounted  Liditning  and  rode  down  ; 
and  tliere,  sure  enough,  an  immense  crowd  was  gathered 


I, 


146 


CAPTAIN    DISBROWE 


li'  \ 


on  the  banks,  watching  tlie  creek  roaring,  and  foaming, 
and  dashing  along ;  and  there  was  the  Ijridge  all 
broken — and  shaking  planks  that  every  second  might 
be  carried  away.  Just  as  Jack  reached  the  place,  there 
was  a  great  cry  that  a  man  had  been  carried  olf  the 
bank,  and  directly  they  heard  his  screams  for  help, 
and  there  he  was  clini'in'i:  to  a  hirge  rock  in  the  middle 
uf  the  creek,  and  shrieking  out  to  them  for  God  s  sake 
not  to  let  him  drown. 

"  A  lot  of  men  got  a  rope  ?nd  tried  to  throw  it  to 
him,  but  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  reach  it,  unless 
some  one  ventured  out  on  the  plank  and  risked  their 
own  lives  for  him.  No  one  would,  however,  for  he 
was  a  miserable,  drunken  wretch  ;  and  in  another  min- 
ute he  would  have  been  swept  away,  if  Jacquetta  had 
not  sprung  oU  her  horse,  seized  the  rope,  and  while  the 
crowd  stood  speechless  with  horror,  darted  out  on  the 
plank.  I  tell  you,  cousin  Alfred,  as  they  saw  her  stand- 
ing there,  that  young  girl,  on  that  frail  plank,  over  that 
foaming  torrent,  so  bravely  risking  her  life  to  save  Jin- 
other's,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  there  dropped  on 
their  knees,  and  the  silence  of  death  reigned.  Shov 
reached  the  middle  of  the  plank,  she  flung  him  the 
rope ;  but  before  she  could  turn,  tlie  plank  was  swept 
from  under  her,  and  she  was  hurled  headlong  into  the 
foaming  torrent." 

"  Heavens !"  gasped  Disbrowe,  with  a  paling  cheek, 
as  though  he  saw  it  before  him. 

"  There  was  a  cry  as  of  one  miglity  voice  from  that 
crowd,"  contimied  Frank,  "as  they  saw  her  fall;  but 
clear  and  high  above  all  arose  her  ringing  voice  :  '  Pull, 
men — pull !  Don't  let  me  drown !'  She  held  on 
tirmly,  and  the  next  minute  the  i>air  of  them  stood  high 
— and  drij  I  was  going  to  say,  only  it  wouldn't  be  true 
—on  dry  land.  And  a  hearty  cheer  from  the  specta- 
tors greeted  them." 

Il  rank's  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  his  eyes  were 
glisteninij  at  the  recollection. 

"And  there  she  stood — God  bless  her! — dripping 


MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 


147 


nng, 
)  all 
liglit 
:here 
;  the 
help, 
liddle 
sake 

T  it  to 
unless 

their 
for  ho 
r  min- 
ta  had 
ilethe 
on  the 

stand- 
er  that 
tive  an- 
ped  oil 
She^ 
Hin   the 

swept 
uto  the 

:  cheek, 

om  that 
all;  but 

; '  ruii, 

icld  ou 
)od  higli 
be  true 
3  specta- 

res  were 

dripping 


like  a  water-goddess,  and  listening  to  their  shouts  as 
coolly  and  composedly  as  tliougli  they  were  so  many 
French  dulls.  1  stood  there,  hugging  her,  I  believe, 
and  crying,  and  laughing,  and  shouting  all  together — 
to  all  of  which  her  sole  rejily  was,  as  siie  jerked  herself 
away  :  '  Frank,  don't  squeeze  me  so  ;  don't  you  see  my 
wet  clothes  are  spoiling  your  new  pants?'" 

This  winding  up  was  so  characteristic  of  Jacquetta, 
that  Disbrowc  beii-an  to  lani::li. 

"  And  the  man — what  of  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  was  the  same  fellow  that  she  struck  for 
taking  hold  of  her  when  she  interfered  in  behalf  of 
Dick — and  a  worthless  scamp  he  was  ;  but  from  that 
day  he  reformed ;  got  sober  and  industrious,  and  is  a 
lirst-rate  old  fellow  now;  and  would  die  gladly,  I  be- 
lieve in  my  soul,  for  Jack.  So,  there's  the  history  of 
two  of  hor  2n'ote(/ee-'i" 

It  was  strange  the  effect  these  and  similar  stoi-ies 
of  Jacquetta's  daring  and  kindness  of  heart  had  on  Dis- 
browe.  Softened  and  tender  his  thoughts  of  her  grew, 
until  his  cheek  flushed,  and  his  eyelired,  and  his  pulses 
bounded,  and  he  drew  a  long,  quivering  breath,  and 
wished  from  the  very  depths  of  liis  soul  she  were  a!i 
heiress,  with  a  rent-roll  of  twenty  thousand  a  year,  thtit 
be  might  dare  to  love  her.  As  it  was,  he  might  as  well 
venture  to  fall  in  love  with  the  moon,  for  all  hope  he 
ever  could  have  of  marryino-  her. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  it  with  poor  devils  of  younger 
brothers  like  me,  without  a  rap  to  bless  themselves 
with  !  They  can't  fall  in  love  like  decent  Christians, 
and  marry  whom  they  please  ;  but  whew!  Alfred  Dis- 
bi'owe,  my  boy,  do  you  know  what  yuu  are  talking 
about  ?  What  have  yoio  to  do  with  falling  in  love — you 
who  are  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  as  good  as  mar- 
ried, already  ?  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  Jack  De  V'^ere !" 
he  exclaimed,  almost  passionately.  "  That  girl  can  be- 
devil with  her  wild,  witching  ways  whoever  t^lm  j)leases  ; 
and  I'll  be  sure  to  go  and  make  a  fool  of  myself  before 
I  have  done !  Oh,  Jack   De  Vere  !    you  compound  of 


•'!, 


148 


CAPTAIN    DISDROWE 


»,-v. 


ID   I 


inoonsistcncics  !  was  there  ever  one  like  you  before  in 
tJie  world  r' 

8ittin«i:  there,  lie  tlionii'lit  of  her  in  all  her  chann^inf]: 
moods,  until  the  momentary  f^loom  that  had  overspread 
his  lin(>.  face  passed  away,  and  ai^ain  he  lanij;lied. 

"  What  a  sensation  she  would  make  among  the  titled 
dames  who  crowd  l^ontelle  Park,  to  he  sure— this  wild 
Yankee  i-irl !  I  think  I  see  l-^ady  JMaru^aret's  look  of 
horror  and  consternation,  KarneclillVs  hau_ii;hty  dismay, 
and  the  wonder  and  amazement,  not  to  say  terror,  of 
the  rest.  Ilow  Tom  Vane,  and  Lord  Austrey,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  fast  bloods,  would  rave  about  her;  and 
liow  she  would  be  toasted  and  talked  of — the  lionnc  of 
the  day  !  Ilei^■ho  !  what  a  ])ity  it  is  a  man  dare  not  do 
as  he  ])leases!  It  some  kind  fairy  would  ,i!;ive  me  tifty 
thousand  pounds  '  liis  moment,  J  believe  in  my  soul  I 
M'ould  mnrry  the  L-irl,  if  she  would  have  me,  in  spite  of 
fate  and — Norma  Macdonald  !'' 

In  a  more!  thonu'litful  nu)od  than  was  customarv 
with  the  _i:;;iy.  can'less,  ?io/?r/!^^A/;//youn<ji;^'uardsnum,  he 
walked  back  to  I'^ontelk',  and  watchcid  ,lac(]uetta  dui'ing 
dinner,  with  a  strangi;  mingling  of  pain  and  i)leasure. 
80  gay.  so  blight,  so  bewitching  she  was — this  spark- 
linii;  fav  of  the  moonlight — this  briixht-winwd  little  bird 
of  Paradise — this  daring,  dauutless-heartedJoan  of  Are 
— that  he  would  luu^e  given  ^^■orl(ls,  at  that  moment, 
could  he  for  one  instant  have  called  her  his.  With  a 
thrill  that  tingled  through  every  vein  in  his  heart. 
Captain  Alfred  Disbrowe — the  brother  of  an  earl,  a 
peer  of  the  realm  in  ])rospectivc — made  the  discovery 
that  he  was  falling  in  love,  and  with  this  penniless,  red- 
luiired  "  Vnidvee  •••irl." 

An  hour  after  dinner,  she  came  flyiunj  in  her  light, 
breezy  way,  down  stairs,  e(pn'])ped  for  her  walk,  and 
looking  more  beautiful,  he  thought,  than  ho  had  ever 
seen  her  before.  Jler  dark-hlue  dress  and  black  velvet 
shawl  set  off  the  e\(piisite  fairness  of  her  i)early  com- 
plexion, lier  cheeks  were  HusIkhI,  her  gray  eyes  shone 
and  sparkled  like  stars,  her  smiling  mouth  looked  more 


!i 


MAKES    A     LVSCOVERY. 


149 


m 


like  a  rose-lmd  tlian  over,  uiKllievsliort,  briujlit,  dancing 
ciii'Ls  flashed  around  her  snow-white,  polisiied,  lanii:;hing 
forehead,  with  a  careless  grace  of  their  own,  that  al- 
most surprised  Disbrowe  into  an  inward  conviction  that 
there  ^cas  a  possibility  of  red  hair  looking  pretty.  13ut, 
then,  the  honorable  captain  was  falling  in  love  with 
their  fairy  owner,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  be  an 
impartial  judge. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  was  doing  this  morning," 
said  Jacquetta,  as  they  walked  along. 

"Well,"  said  Disbrowe,  "I  don't  pretend  to  divina- 
tion ;  l)ut  I  tbiidv  1  can  guess.  You  were  most  prob- 
ably sitting  beside  your  handsome  ])atient." 

"■Exactly!  You  are  as  smart  at  guessing  as  a 
YViikee.  But  I  was  doing  something  more.  I  was 
reading." 

"  Ah !  were  you  ?     Your  prayer-book,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Dear  me !  how  sarcastic  we  are !  No ;  it  was  a 
novel — an  old  story — so  old  and  simple  that  the  fastidi- 
ous, reflned  Captain  Disbrowe  would  pitch  it  away 
with  a  contemptuous  '  pshaw !'  as  unworthy  his  im- 
perial notice  ;  yet  1  liked  it." 

"  Captain  Disbrowe  would  have  liked  anything  you 
did,  my  dear  child." 

"  Oh,  would  he  ?  Leaping  over  the  Demon's  Gorge, 
for  instance,     lie  didn't  seem  to  like  that !" 

"Most  malicious  of  fairies!  am  I  never  to  hear  the 
last  of  that  f 

"  Don't  pay  compliments,  then.  But  about  this 
story — I  was  reading  it  to  Jacinto,  and  he  liked  it,  too  ; 
and  he's  a  judge  of  good  things,  »lacinto  is.  Knows  so 
much,  too — is  a  heap  too  clever  for  a  foreigner,  in 
fact." 

"  No  doubt  you  think  so,"  said  Disbrowe,  bitterly ; 
"ho  is  perfection  in  your  eyes — a  young  jackanapes!" 

"Come,  Captain  Disbrowe,  be  civil.  1  can't  stand 
this,  you  know.  But  in  this  old  story  I  was  telling 
you  of,  when  you  were  so  im})()lite  as  to  put  me  out, 
there  was  a  young  nobleman  who  fell   in  love  with  a 


150 


CAPTAIN    DISDROWE 


^    I 


r '    \i 


r 


II 


peasant  girl — one  of  his  father's  tenants — and  she  fell 
in  love  with  him." 

"A  pcusaiit  girl!  What  a  precious  fool  he  must 
have  been  !"  said  JJisbrowe,  sotto  voce. 

"AVell,  his  father  heard  it,  and  raised  no  end  of  a 
row.  Tn  vain  the  lover  pleaded ;  the  old  gentleman 
was  inexorable — wouldn't  be  brought  to  view  matters 
in  their  proper  light  at  all,  and  ended  by  banishing  his 
son  from  home;  and,  wdien  he  got  him  away,  com- 
pelling the  girl  to  marry  somebody  else." 

"  VV^ell,  1  daresay  she  was  willing  enough,"  said 
Disbrowe ;  "  girls  generally  are,  to  get  married.  What 
did  the  unfortunate  young  gentleman  do,  when  he 
heard  it  ?  Married  some  Lady  Seraphina  Ann,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"No,  sir!  he  died  of  a  broken  lieart !  What  do 
you  think  of  that  ?"  said  Jacquetta,  triumphantly. 

Disbrowe  laughed.  "  What  a  paragon  he  was ! 
Ought  to  be  labeled  and  sent  to  the  British  Museum, 
as  the  eighth,  last,  and  greatest  wonder  of  the  world.  A 
man  with  a  broken  heart !  Ye  gods  !"  And  Captain 
Disbrowe  laughed  immoderately. 

"  (31i,  you  may  laugh,"  said  Jacquetta ;  "  but  my  be- 
lief is  that  there  are  some  men  who  have  hearts  to 
break,  in  this  llinty  world,  if  one  could  only  find  them. 
Now,  what  would  you  do,  cousin  Alf,  for  a  woman  you 
loved  ?" 

"  Something  better  than  break  my  heart,  I  should 
hope." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  yon  have  one  to  break  ?  Would 
you  risk  your  life  for  her  i" 

"  No  ;  something  better." 

"  Die,  then  V 

"Die?— not  I!     Better  still." 

"  What,  then  ?     I  give  it  up." 

"Make  her  Mrs.  D." 

"That  would  be  a  climax  of  happiness,  certainly ! 
Oh,  the  self-conceit  of  man  !  And  so  that  is  all  the 
extent  to  which  your  gallantry  would  carry  you,  is  it  ?" 


MAKES    A     DISC  OVERT. 


151 


"  All,  ma  belle,  what  would  I  not  risk  for  joii !" 
said  Disbrowe,  softly,  with  liis  handsome  eyes  lixad  on 
her  face. 

Ja(-'qiietta  laughed.  "  Dreadfully  obli.iijcd,  Vm  sure. 
And  here  goes  to  test  that  declaration.  Climb  up  there 
and  briui'  me  those  llowers." 

A  huge,  steep  bowlder,  almost  perpendicular,  re:  red 
up  near  them,  and  at  a  dizzy  height  from  the  g.'ouu  1  a 
cluster  of  pretty  pink  flowers  grew  in  a  cleft.  J.k;- 
(pietta  pointed  to  these,  and  said,  imperatively, 
''Clhnb!" 

Had  she  told  liim  to  spring  into  the  seething  crater 
of  Mount  Vesuvius  iu  that  tone,  he  would  have  obeyed. 
Before  the  word  had  well  passed  her  lips,  he  was  al- 
rea<.ly  on  his  way  up  the  giddy  steep. 

It  was  a  dangerous  place  to  venture,  only  suited  to 
cats  and  sailors,  and  other  wild  animals,  accustomed  to 
walk  on  air  ;  but  Captain  Disbrowe  wns  young,  lithe, 
;md  active,  and  went  up  with  marvelous  speed,  clinging 
to  loose  pieces  of  rock,  and  hardy,  projecting  plants. 
Jacquetta  stood  below  watching  him  with  a  queer  smile 
on  her  pretty  face. 

lie  reached  the  cleft  at  last,  seized  the  llowers,  and' 
prepared  to  descend  ;  but — alas  for  his  knight-errantry  ! 
— the  treacherous  stone  on  which  he  stood  gave  way, 
and  the  next  instant  he  lay  stunned  and  motionless  on 
the  ground. 

With  a  great  cry,  Jacquetta  sprang  forward  and 
bent  over  him.  Without  sign  of  life  ho  lay,  and  kneel- 
ing beside  him,  she  raised  his  head,  crying  out  in  tones 
of  passionate  grief : 

"  O  Alfred !  cousin  Alfred  !  look  up — speak  to  me  ! 
— say  you  arc  not  hurt !  Oh,  lie  is  dead !  and  I  have 
killed  him!" 

She  bent  over  him  as  ho  lay,  cold  and  still,  and  her 
lips  touched  his  cheek.  The  next  instant,  she  recoiled 
in  terror  at  the  hot  rush  of  blood  that  followed  that 
slight  caress. 

But  that  was  enough.     As  a  slight  dent  with  a 


i 


153 


A     DISC0VEU7. 


"i        f 


])oy's  foot  once  overflowed  tlie  dam,  and  changed  it  to 
a  foaming  torrent,  so  everything  was  swept  witli  resist- 
less force  from  liis  mind  at  tlie  touch  of  those  rosy 
lips,  save  the  one  thrilling,  tumultuous  thought  that 
lie  loved  her,  with  all  his  heart  aud  soul.  The  next 
moment  she  was  in  his  arms,  held  there  almost  liercely, 
while  he  stooped  over  her,  with  a  strange  lire  burning 
in  his  dark  eyes,  and  !i  strange  flush  on  his  handsome 
face,  (trying  out  flercely,  passionately : 
"  Jacquetta  !  Jacquetta!  1  love  you  !" 
Witli  a  cry  that  he  never  forgot — a  cry  fiercer, 
wilder,  more  passionate  than  his  own — she  dashed  liis 
retaining  arms  awaj',  wrenched  herself  from  his  grasp, 
and  clasping  her  hands  over  her  ears,  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  sound,  fled — fled  for  more  than  life — away. 


X 


W     M     I 


J 


'I 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


153 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A   STRANGE  MEETING. 

"Dare  you  linger  bore  at  midniglit, 
Alone  wiien  tlic  nind  is  about  ? 
And  the  bat,  and  tlie  newt,  and  the  viper, 

And  the  (Mccping  things  come  out. 
Beware  of  these  ghostly  chambers, 

Search  not  -whiit  my  heart  halli  been, 
Lest  you  tind  a  phantom  sitting 
Where  once  there  sat  a  queen." 

— Owen  Meredith. 


T  was  in  rather  a  peculiar  mood,  to  use  a  mild 
phrase,  that  the  llonorahlo  Alfred  Disbrowe 
walked  hoine ;  there  were  a  ^reat  many 
conilictiiiG:  fccliiiGrs  siiri>:in<j:  throuurh  his 
mind,  and  chief  among  them  were  astonisli- 
mcnt  and  mortiiicatioTi.  Did  ever  a  man  in  this  workl 
make  a  proposal,  and  have  it  answered  in  such  fashion 
as  this?  Did  ev^er  any  livinfi;  beinpj  behold  such  a 
provoking  little  minx  as  this  fierce,  um'eadablo  little 
enigma — this  s;ivage  little  wild-cat,  who  imslieathed 
her  claws  and  scratched,  the  moment  he  came  too  near 
— this  young  tornado — this  small  flash  of  lightning — 
this  little  grenade,  all  jets,  and  tire,  and  sparkles?  It 
would  have  been  a  comfort  to  i>;et  hold  of  her — 
to  shake  her — to  pull  her  ears — and  then  love  her  a 
thouand-fold  more  than  ever.  Captain  Disbrowe  was  just 
in  the  mood  to  do  both.  Jle  could  have  boxed  her 
ears  with  all  his  heart,  and  yet  never  had  that  heart 
thrilled  in  all  his  life  as  it  was  thrilling  at  that  moment 
to  the  sound  of  her  name.  How  his  pulses  le;ipcd, 
and  his  blood  bounded  at  the  recollection  ot"  Ikm'  small, 
iuvoluutary,  cousinly  caress.     O  Jacijiietta!  Jaciptetta! 

7* 


'\. 


154 


A    STRANGE    MEETfNG. 


— you  littlo  inflammiition  of  tlic  heart  I — you  little 
thunderclap!  how  much  you  had  to  answer  for,  for 
throwing::  the  indolent,  nonchalant,  careless  Captain 
Alfred  Dishrowc  into  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that ! 

lie  reached  home,  at  last — half-hoping,  half-dread- 
inf^,  to  meet  Jacquetta.  The  drawing-room  door  lay 
open,  and  a  clear,  sweet  voice   he  knew  only  too  well. 


was  smgmg : 


"  Oh,  the  Laird  o'  Cockpen,  he's  proud  and  he's  great, 
His  mind's  tiilceu  up  \vi'  iiio  things  o'  the  state." 


!i  y 


Hif'i  ' 


"  There !  there  is  a  hole  in  the  ballad !  Where's 
papa,  Frank?" 

"  Up  stairs,  in  the  liljrary,"  said  Frank,  sauntering 
out,  encountering  Disbrowe  in  the  hall. 

Disbrowe  went  in — half-afraid  to  do  it,  too,  for  he 
could  not  tell  how  Jacquetta  would  meet  him.  She 
was  lying  back,  lialf-buried  in  the  downy  cushion  of  a 
lounge,  caressing  lier  huge,  savage  dog,  Lion,  who 
crouched  at  her  feet,  licking  her  hand  and  watching 
her  with  his  eyes  of  llame.  As  Disbrowe  entered,  he 
started  up,  with  a  growl  like  distant  thunder. 

"  Now,  Lion,  be  quiet! — have  manners,  can't  you? 
It's  only  your  Cousin  Alfred,  you  know.  Come  in,  my 
dear  sir;  I'm  alone  here,  and  feel  awfully  blue."  And 
a  dreary  yawn  attested  the  truth  of  her  words. 

As  Captain  Disbrowe,  angry  and  provoked  at  this 
unlooked-for  sort  of  greeting,  obeyed,  and  Hung  himself, 
half-sullenly,  into  an  arm-chair,  her  eyes  fell  on  the 
dearly-bought  flowers  which,  almost  unknown  to  hini- 
solf,  he  still  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  what  pretty  flowers !  Hand  them  here, 
Cousin  Alfred.     Lion,  go  after  them." 

Lion  dutifully  got  up  and  trotted  over,  took  the 
flowers  in  his  mouth  and  brouo-ht  them  to  his  mistress. 

"  How  sweet  they  are — how  ])retty — almost  as  deli- 
cious as  the  giver !"  And  the  wicked  fairy  looked  up, 
and  laughed  in  his  face. 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


155 


Wlien  a  suppressed  oath,  Captain  Disbrowe  sprang 
to  his  feet  aud  bcii^aii  paciiiLT,  with  passionate  strides,  up 
and  down.  Of  all  her  vvillful  moods,  he  had  not  sup- 
posed she  would  meet  him  like  this:  seorn  and  anger 
— blushing  and  avoidance — silence  and  hauteur,  he 
could  have  borne  and  managed  ;  l)ut  this — this  sublime 
forgetfulness  of  the  whole  thing — this  audacious  cool- 
ness and  unconcern  !  Had  she  been  trying  for  years, 
she  could  not  have  hit  on  a  way  so  likely  to  enrage  him  ; 
and  I  am  afraid,  as  he  ground  his  teeth,  more  than^ne 
naughty  word  escaped. 

Jacquetta  arched  her  eyebrows,  and  pursed  up  her 
lips. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Alfred !  Good  gracious  !  I  wonder 
you  ain't  ashamed !     Do  you  know  what  you  said,  sir?" 

"Jacquetta,  you  will  drive  me  mad!"  he  exclaimed, 
passionately. 

"  Dear  me  !  you  said  it  a^^ain  !  Now,  Lion,  behave 
yourself!     Don't  eat  all  my  flowers  that  way !" 

"  Jacquetta,  will  you  listen  to  me?"  he  cried,  step- 
ping before  lier  in  his  excited  walk. 

"  Well — proceed." 

"  Jacquetta,  I  love  you." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  I'm  sure.  It  shows  a 
good  deal  of  good  sense  on  your  part.  Now,  Lion,  will 
you  stop  eating  my  flowers  ?" 

"  Oh,  saints  and  angels,  grant  me  patience  !  Jac- 
quetta, you  will  drive  me  mad !" 

"  Well,  you  told  me  that  before,  if  I  don't  mistake. 
What's  the  good  of  repeating  it  'i  (to  on." 

With  a  tierce  imprecation,  he  was  up  again,  striding 
up  and  down  as  if  he  really  was  mad.  Jacquetta  rose 
on  her  elbow,  adjusted  her  pillow,  so  that  she  could  lie 
and  watch  him  comfortably. 

"Cruel ! — heartless! — unwomanly!"  burst  passion- 
ately from  his  lips,  as  he  strode  on  without  heedmg  her. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  strange,  mocking  smile  on 
her  face,  and  drew  the  ears  of  her  savage  pet  through 
her  Angers. 


tl 


i'lr 


.  il 


M  '     1 


1 1 


>«.  fi 


If' 


1  I 


K    :        1 


I' 


I! 


t'l 


1      t  r 


|i 


*   I     111 
I  'I       ., 

'4     '"■ 


I. 


M 

fir 


i\  r 

il^'    L 

j,    f,. 


' 


■i      ii 


i!<      !i 


156 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


"  Not  tired  yet,"  she  Scaid,  when  he  ce:i8ed.  "  Per- 
haps you  are  going  into  training  for  a  pedestrian  V 

"  Insulting  ! — unfeeling  coquette  !"  he  bitterly 
cried. 

Slie  arose,  liauglitily. 

"  You  forget  yourself,  sir  !  Another  word  like  that, 
and  I  leave  the  room  !" 

"  Oh,  Jacquetta !  you  are  enough  to  drive  a  man 
crazy  !  but  forgive  me,  I  hardly  knew  what  1  was  say- 
mg." 

"  So  I  think.  Captain  Disbrowe  !  Had  you  not  bet- 
ter come  to  your  senses  as  soon  as  }>ossible  ?" 

"  Jacquetta,  are  you  merciless  'i  I  have  asked  for 
bread — shall  I  get  a  stone  ?" 

"  You  deserve  a  vi])er,  sir !  Sit  down,  I  tell  you  !" 
she  said,  imperiously. 

He  obeyed,  with  something  like  a  groan. 

"  Now,  then,  Captain  Disbrowe,  wduit  do  you  want?" 

"  You,  Jacquetta  ! — my  love  !   my  darling  !" 

Oh,  the  infinite  depth  of  mockery  in  her  eyes  and 
smile  ! 

"  Indeed  !  And  what  do  you  ^vant  of  me,  pray  ?" 

"  Oh,  Jacquetta !  what  a  question !" 

"  Is  it !  I  see  nothing  extraordinary  in  it.  If  you 
came  and  asked  me  for  Lion,  here,  I  should  probably  ask 
you  what  you  wanted  of  him,  as  well.  And  I  rather 
fancy  you  would  find  it  an  easier  question  to  answer 
than  tiiis." 

He  was  silent,  and  bit  his  lip.  The  look  of  intense 
mockery  on  Jacquetta's  face  was  mingled  now  with  un- 
utterable scorn. 

"  Oh,  the  wisdom  of  these  men !  Oh,  this  wonder- 
ful love  of  theirs !  Oh,  this  unspeakable  depth  of  re- 
linement  and  delicacy !  Lion,  my  boy,  thank  God  you 
love  me,  and  have  not  a  man's  heart !" 

"  Jacquetta  !"  he  said  with  a  haughty  flush,  "  what 
do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !"  siie  said,  "  you  do  not  know. 
If  I  had  been  one  of  your  Lady  Marys,  or  Lady  Junes, 


A     STRANGE    MEETING. 


157 


would  yoii  have  dared  to  t;dk  tome  like  this?  lleeansc 
vol!  found  me  u  wild  Yankee  ^nrl,  who  rode  steej)le- 
chases,  ])la}'ed  with  d(>a:s  instead  of  iJerlin  wool  and 
French  novels,  you  thought  you  were  free  to  insult  nie, 
and  to  talk  io  me  as  you  would  to  a  eoal-hcaver's 
daui;-hter  in  Eni^land.  Don't  interrupt  me,  sir,  and 
don't  attempt  to  deny  it ;  for,  knowin<^  what  we  both 
know,  such  a  declaration  from  you  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  an  insult !"' 

He  ^aced  round,  and  the  light  of  his  dark,  bright, 
handsome  eyes  shone  full  upoji  her  face. 

"  What  wo  both  know,"  he  said,  slowly.  "May  I 
ask  what  you  mean  hy  that.  Miss  Ja('(pietta?" 

Her  face  flushed  to  the  very  temples,  and  for  a 
second  or  two,  her  eyes  fell. 

"  I  won't  tell  you  !"  she  said,  defiantly.  "  But  I 
know  more  than  I  ever  learned  from  you  !" 

Her  tone,  hot  at  Urst,  fell  into  its  customary  saucy 
cadence  as  she  went  on ;  and  she  broke  into  a  short 
laugh,  and  fell  to  caressing  Lion  ngain  as  she  ceased. 

"  And  this  is  my  answer  i"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"Your  answer?  Yes,  sir!  I  hope  it  pleases  you  !" 

"  And  this  is  Jacquetta  ?" 

"  At  your  service,  sir.     How  do  you  like  her  ?" 

"  Have  you  a  woman's  heart,  Jacquetta,  or  is  there 
a  stone  in  its  place." 

"  Perhaps  there  is."  And  she  laughed  wickedly. 
"  If  so,  you  ought  to  be  satislied ;  for  you  said,  away 
back  there  in  your  first  chapter,  tliat  I  had  given  you 
a  stone." 

"  Have  you  no  mercy  ?" 

"  None  for  my  foes.     The  motto  of  a  true  De  Yero 


18,  *  War  to  the  knife  !'  " 


"  0  tigerdicart !"  cried  Disbrowe.  "  Am  I  to  get 
no  reply  but  this  '^" 

"  Hcply  to  what  ?  Begin  at  the  beginning  of  the 
catechism  again,  and  see  how  I  will  answer  you.  Ask 
away,  and  never  fear  but  you  will  get  your  auswer." 

"  I  told  you  I  loved  you." 


158 


A     STRANG/':    MF.ETING. 


V  m 


m 


"  Yes — I  ]i;ivo  :i  faint  recollection  of  the  fact.  But 
you  don't  call  that  a  question,  1  hope?" 

"Nevertheless,  I  expected  an  answer." 

"  Ah  !  What  was  it  to  be  ?" 

'*  That  you  loved  me  in  return." 

Jacquetta  laughed ;  and  springing  up,  began  de- 
claiming, stage  fashion : 

■"  '  Wlion  in  tlmt  moment,  so  it  came  to  pass, 

Titauia  wukcd,  and  straightway  loved  an — ass.' 

"  You  see,  I  can  quote  Shakspere  as  well  as  you, 
Cousin  Alfred." 

He  ground  his  teeth  with  rage. 

"  Oh,  Heavens  above !  And  this  is  what  1  have 
loved  ?" 

"  Don't  get  excited,  my  good  Alfred — my  dear 
Alfred  !  ICeep  cool ;  and  if  you  find  the  air  of  this 
room  heating,  would  you  mind  my  insinuating  a  walk 
up  and  down  the  maple  avenue,  out  there?  The  air, 
this  cool  spring  day,  will  be  a  good  thing  to  take." 

"Heart  of  Hint! — heart  of  steel!  A  tigress  would 
have  more  pity  than  you  !" 

"Pity!"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  made  him  start. 
She  had  arisen  to  her  feet,  with  one  arm  upraised,  with 
her  cheek's  aiire,  and  her  eyes  aflame.  "  Pity  !  Yes  ; 
I  pity  myself  from  the  very  depths  of  my  soul,  that  I 
should  ever  have  fallen  low  enough  to  listen  to  this!" 

She  swept  across  the  room  like  a  tragic  queen,  with 
the  ringing  tread  of  an  outraged  empress.  That  light 
in  her  eye,  that  fire  in  her  cheek — all  unusual  there — 
what  did  it  forbode  ? 

"  What  have  I  said — what  have  I  done,  that  you 
should  dare  to  utter  words  like  these?  I  am  a  wild, 
willful,  thoughtless  girl,  too  fearless  and  masculine,  it 
may  be,  for  my  sex ;  but  is  it  my  fault  that  God  gave 
me  a  man's  heart,  to  do,  aiid  dare,  and  brave?  I  was 
frank  and  open  with  you,  because  I  thought  you  an 
honorable  man — because  I  thought  you  would  under- 


A     STRANGE    MEETING. 


159 


stand  mc ;  and  I  could  liavc  lovod  yon  as  a  brotlior. 
And  you  have  returned  it  like  this  !  (.)h,  Ca|)taiii  Dis- 
browe  !  it  is  v/or so.  than ''AY  iu,  Unite  f  You  know, 
and  I  know,  now  that  the  scales  Jiave  fallen  from  my 
eyes,  how  you  rc^^ard  me.  Would  you  marry  me  i 
would  you  take  me  to  Enj^land'^  would  you  show  me 
to  y(nir  friends — me,  the  mad,  uncivilized,  North 
American  savaijje — as  your  honored  wife,  and  the 
future  Lady  Earneclille,  of  Disbrowo  Park?  No,  sir! 
You  never  would!  Y'ou  never  intended  to!  And 
even  if  you  would,  could  you,  as  a  man  of  honor,  have 
done  so?  Ask  your  own  heart — if  you  have  one — and 
let  it  reply." 

It  was  her  turn  to  pace  up  and  down  now,  and  she 
was  doino;  it  with  a  venn^eance.  lie  had  leaned  his 
elbow  on  the  table  and  dropped  his  forehead  on  it,  and 
his  face  v/as  white  and  cold  as  marble. 

"The  name  I  bore  miijjht  have  saved  me  from 
insult;  but  it  has  not  done  so.  Never,  in  .ill  my  life, 
have  I  fallen  so  low  in  my  own  eyes,  as  I  have  done 
this  day!  It  may  1)0  that  I  hnve  deserved  it;  but 
coming  from  you — Oh,  Cousin  Alfred!  iv/iat  have  I 
done  tliat  you  should  liave  shai'pened  this  arrow  f(jr 
my  heart?" 

There  was  such  ]xissionate  sorrow  in  her  voice,  that 
it  moved  him  as  nothing  else  had  ever  done ;  and  lift- 
ing his  head,  he  would  have  spoken,  but  she  motioned 
him  to  silence  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

"  No — say  nothing.  It  is  too  late !  If  I  were  the 
only  one  injured  to-day,  you  might  be  foi'given ;  but 
that  other — that  other,  to  whom  you  are  bound  by  vows 
death  alone  can  ever  break.  O  Alfred  Disbrowe  !  who 
shall  forojive  you  for  the  wrong  vou  have  done  her  ?" 

Impetuously  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  dashed  back 
the  clustering  locks  of  his  fair,  brown  hair. 

"  Jacquetta,  this  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  in- 
sinuated something  which  must  be  explained — I  repeat 
it,  must  be !  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

She  paused  before  him,  and  met  his  excited  gaze, 


H! 


I, 


smim 


l:i 


160 


.1     ST  RAN  UK    MEETING. 


il- 


t  $^ 
'ii  k 


'  -i 


I'' 


i!i 


II 


.11'    :"■! 


iifi  j.f 


'      t. 


■|t 


I 


witli  eyes  from  wliicli  the  fierce,  anpy  Uglit  liad  died 
out ;  and  u  fuhit,  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile,  llickered 
around  her  mouth. 

'•IShall  1  really  tell  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  you  do  not  understand  rae  ?" 

"  I  say  notliin^\     1  want  you  to  explain." 

"  Then,"  she  said,  with  a  trium])liant  flash  of  her 
eye,  "you  shall  have  it !    What  of  jVo?'i/ia ?" 

"  JacMpietta  !" 

"  Alfred  !"  she  said,  with  a  mocking  smile. 

"  Who  told  you  ? — how  came  you — " 

"There,  that  is  enough  !  Go — leave  me!"  And  she 
opened  the  door  and  pointed  out. 

"  First  tell  nie— " 

"  I  will  not  I — leave  me  !"  slie  said,  with  an  imperi- 
ous stamp  of  her  foot.  "  And  take  this  parting  piece  of 
advice  with  you.  Forget  what  has  passed  this  evening, 
as  I  will  endeavor,  also,  to  do.  Forget  there  is  such  a 
person  as  the  girl  Jaccpietta,  and  think  of  me  only  as 
the  boy  Jack  Ue  Vere.     There — go!" 

She  held  out  her  arm  toward  the  door,  and  kept  it 
in  that  position  until  he  was  gone,  angrily  and  haugh- 
tily. And  for  an  hour  after  that,  she  paced  to  and 
fro,  up  and  down  the  room,  without  stopping  once,  with 
eyes  so  full  of  dark,  bitter  gloom,  that  you  would  hardly 
have  known  her  for  the  gay,  laughing  fairy  of  Fontelle 
Hall.  kSho  went  over,  at  last,  and  leaned  wearily  against 
the  mantel,  and  looked  in  the  Are  burning  on  the 
marble  hearth.  Long  and  intently  she  gazed  in  the 
glowing  coals,  as  though  some  dark  picture  had  arisen 
tliere  before  her.  Was  that  vision  anything  like  that 
of  old  Grizzle  Ilowlet's  of  the  inn  ?  Did  she  see  the 
foul  gulf  and  the  prostrate  form  lying  in  the  slime  at 
the  bottom — lying  at  his  feet  too  'i  Something  dark  it 
must  have  been,  for  she  drew  a  long,  shivering  breath, 
as  she  turned  away,  with  a  weary  step  and  a  paling 
cheek. 

The  sound  of  pleasant   voices  and  gay  laughter 


A     STUANOE    MEETING. 


IGl 


it 


greeted  the  ears  of  Disbrowc  an  hour  or  so  later  when 
he  ascended  to  the  parhjr  for  the  eveiiinii^  meal,  and  fell 
on  liis  angry  lieart  like  vinegar  npon  niter.  All  the 
family  were  assembled  there.  Mr.  De  Vere  sat  in  his 
arm-chair  beside  a  couch,  on  which  reclined  the  boy 
Jacinto,  with  whom  lie  was  gayly  chatting.  Somewl:;it 
l)aler  and  thinner  than  when  he  had  ?-iivn  him  last  was 
.laeinto,  but  as  handsome  as  ever,  and  looking  wonder- 
fully interesting,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling.  On  the 
hearth-rug  beside  him  sat  Jacqiietta,  laughing  as  mer- 
rily as  though  care  or  anger  were  to  her  wortls  without 
meaning.  Frank  was  leaning  over  the  back  of  the 
couch,  enjoying  the  fun,  and  Lady  Augusta — the 
very  image  of  a  marble  Niobe — sat  near,  with  her  pale 
face  bent  on  her  hand. 

Bisbrowe  at  once  advanced  to  where  the  boy  lay, 
and  hurriedly  began  some  words  oi  thanks  tor  what  he 
termed  his  ''  brave  conduct  "  and  "  generous  heroism  " 
in  risking  his  life  for  a  stranger,  until  the  boy's  full 
face  Hushed  with  endjarrassment,  and  he  sln-ank  away, 
as  if  in  avoidance  of  the  subject.  Jacquetta  saw  his 
natural  confusion,  and  came  to  his  relief. 

" There,  thera.  Cousin  Alfred!  that  will  do;  he'll 
imagine  the  rest,  and  it  will  s])are  your  eloquence  and 
his  blushes.  Here  comes  Tribula  with  the  tea-U'^i;  so 
come,  Master  Jacinto,  and  sit  here  beside  me,  and  if 
you  are  as  hungry  as  1  am,  you  will  do  justice  to  those 
delic-ious  rice-waiHes  and  oyster  patties  1  see  there." 

Disbrowe  bowed  coldly,  and  took  his  place.  All 
the  evening  Jacquetta  was  in  the  highest  possible 
spirits,  and  best  possible  looks.  There  was  a  streaming 
brilliancy  in  her  eyes,  a  feverish  liusli  on  her  cheeks, 
and  her  round,  white,  polished  forehead  looked  pure  and 
marble-like  by  the  contrast.  Her  short,  red  curls 
Hashed  and  shone  like  rings  of  flame,  and  there  was  a 
buoyant  lightness  in  her  step,  a  clear,  joyous  ring  in 
her  voice,  that  angered  one  there  present,  until  for  the 
moment  he  felt  as  if  he  hated  her  for  it.  A^ever  had 
her  hands  flown  so  easily  or  so  brilliantly  over  the  pol- 


■Ji  I" 


i       \* 


't(    .:iiii 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


i.-licd  keys  of  the  piano,  cntraaciiii^  one  and  all  ;  and 
ni.'ver  had  her  voice  rani^  out  so  eiear  and  sweet  as  it 
(lid  tliat  ni^'ht.  Soniij  after  sonpj  ilowed  from  her  lips 
as  tliou^h  she  was  ins])ii'ed.  And,  willful,  wayward, 
unaccountable  girl  that  she  was,  she  Rang,  without  be- 
ing aoked,  all  the  old  English  songs  she  knew  Disbrowe 
liked,  as  he  had  never  heard  them  sung  before.  There 
was  a  depth  of  ])athos  and  a  passionate  tenderness  in  her 
voice,  as  she  sai.g  "  Come  back  to  me  Douglas,  tend^-F 
and  true,"  that  made  the  song  a  very  wail  of  despair — 
a  cry  of  anguish  from  a  broken  heart,  so  full  of  hope- 
less love,  strong  as  death  ;  and  Disbrowe  sat  with  his 
face  averted,  still,  dark,  voiceless  and  motionless.  A 
8ob  l)roke  the  deep  silence  before  she  ceased,  from  the 
Spanish  boy  Jacinto. 

"  What  I  has  that  old  Scotch   sonir  brought  tears  to 


your  eyes  ^"  said  Jaccpietta,  with  a  laugh.  "What  a 
thing  it  is  to  have  a  tender  heart !  JMo  doubt  the 
Scotch  lassie  forgot  her  darling  Dougl.is  a  week  after, 
and  took  up   with   the  iirst  Sandie  that  came  along!" 

"  What  an  opinion  you  have  of  your  sex,  Flibberti- 
gibbet," said  Hv.  De  Vere.  "  Wait  until  you  get  a 
'  Dougla:j '  of  your  own,  and  see  if  you  will  not  he  as 
silly  and  love-sick  as  any  Scotch  hissie  that  ever  tripped 
the  heather." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  have  not  got  one  now,  papa?" 
said  J acqnetta,  with  a  careless  laugh.  "There  never 
yet  was  a  girl  who  reached  the  age  of  twenty  without 
losing  her  heart  a  score  of  times." 

"  Well,  whoever  got  yours,  Jack,  I  wish  him  joy  of 


it,"  said  Frank,  with  a  shrug. 

"  So  you  may  !  lle'il  need  all  your  good  wishes, 
poor  fellow  1  It's  a  sort  of  a  bottle-imp,  dangerous  alike 
to  buyer  and  owner.     Why,  what  on  earth  is  that  V 

The  sound  of  an  altercation  in  the  hall  reached  their 
ears,  and  then  a  shrill,  childish,  imperious  voice  was 
heard : 

"  I  will  go  in — T  tell  you  !  I'll  go  in,  in  spite  of 
you.     Let  go — will  you  ?" 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


163 


of 


of 


Jaequctta  ilnng  open  the  door ;  and,  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  ail,  the  Uttlc  elf,  Orric  llowlet,  ran  in — lier 
black  hair  streaming  abont  her — lier  black  eyes  bright 
with  an  angry  light.  She  gave  a  quick  glance  round 
the  room,  until  she  beheld  Disbrowe,  and  then,  with  a 
cry  of  delight,  she  darted  over  and  sprang  into  his  arms. 

"  I  knew  vou  were  lierc  :  hut  that  liorridokl  woman 
didn't  want  to  let  me  in.     Don't  you  let  her  get  me." 

'•  If  jou  please,  'm,"  said  Tribulation,  a  hard-visaged, 
stern-looking,  elderly  woman,  "  she  would  come  in,  yon 
know." 

'•  There  !  never  mind.  It's  all  right,  Tribulation," 
said  Jacquetta,  closing  the  door. 

"  Who,  in  the  name  of  all  the  kelpies,  is  this?"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  De  Vere,  while  Augusta  and  Jacinto 
looked  the  wonder  they  did  not  speak. 

The  child,  who  had  clasped  Disbrowe  round  the 
neck,  glanced  over  her  shoulder,  and  composedly  said  : 

"  Oh,  Orrie  llowlet !  you  know !  Old  Grizzle's 
little  girl.     You  needn't  be  scared  !" 

Jacquetta  and  Disbrowe  laughed,  partly  at  the  little 
one's  impertnrbable  gravity,  and  partly  at  Mr.  Do 
Vere's  consternation. 

"What  in  the  world  brought  you  here  to-night, 
0]Tic  V  said  Disbrowe,  who  was  half-amused  and  half- 
allectcd  by  the  little  one's  strange  love  for  himself. 

"  Why,  to  see  you !  I  said  I  would  come,  you 
know !  You  won't  send  me  away — will  you  V  she 
said,  looking  up  earnestly  in  his  handsome,  smiling 
face. 

"  Not  if  Mr.  Do  Yere  will  let  you  stay.  And  so 
you  came  all  the  way  from  the  inn  to  see  me — did  you, 
"Orrie  ?" 

"Oh,  yef]!"  said  Orrie,  clinging  closer  to  him. 

"  Docs  old  Grizzle  know  ?" 

"No;  I  guess  slie  don't,"  said  Orrie,  with  one  of 
her  sh(M't,  shrill  laughs.  "  Oh  !  won't  she  bo  mad  when 
she  linds  out  ^" 

"  Will  she  beat  you  ?" 


r:p^'=^^^="'^B^^^^sm^^mBStsm 


m 


164 


A    STRANGE    MI':ETING. 


"  Bg  sure  she  will !"  said  Orrie,  coniplaoently. 
"  Oil  I  won't  slio,  tliOiii:^li !  J>iit  I  don't  care.  I  liavu 
seon  you,  you  Icnow,  and  she  can't  I)c;at  that  away  i " 

"  My  dear  ciiihl,"  said  Di^browe,  touched  l>y  her 
look  and  tone,  "if  I  had  known  you  cared  so  much  for 
seein<^  inc,  1  sliould  iiave  ridden  over  to  the  inn.  I 
wouhi  not  iiave  you  get  punished  for  nie." 

"  Would  you  be  sorry  V  said  the  little  one,  opening 
her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  very." 

*'  And  you  like  mc,  too?" 

"  Very  much,  my  dear  little  girl.  It  is  something 
to  be  k)ved  in  this  world  as  you  love  me !" 

There  was  such  sorr(.)wful  bitterness  in  his  tone, 
that  Orrie's  black  eyes  oj)ened  wider  ihan  ever.  A 
small,  white  hand  fell  softly  ou  his,  and  with  it  fell  a 
bright   droj). 

"  Why,  I  declare,"  said  Orrie,  in  the  utmost  sur- 
prise, ''if  Miss  Jack  ain't  a  cryin' !" 

Jac(iuetta  stooped  down,  and  impulsively  touched 
her  lips  to  those  that  had  so  lately  kisssed  Disbrowe,  with 
the  involuntary  cry  : 

"  O  Orrie !  love  me,  too !  Dear  little  Orrie,  love 
rae,  too !" 

Orrie  gave  her  one  of  her  impulsive  hugs  and 
kisses,  scanning  her  curiously  meanwhile,  and  then  she 
asked  : 

"  But  you  were  cry  in',  weren't  you  ?  What  ma4e 
you  cry  T' 

"Me!  iS'onsensc,  Oi'rie !  1  wasn't  crying!"  said 
Jac(pietta,  with  a  gay  laugh. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were,''  tfai<3  Orrie,  ap])arently 
relieved.  "1  hate  to  sec  })i'oi)l»'  cry  (Hi!  .here's 
Frank! — [  must  go  and  see  him."'  said  the  elf,  spriug- 
iiig  from  Disbrowe's  arms,  and  naming  over  to  iM'ank. 

Looking  down  at  the  same  moment,  flaccjuetUi 
caught  the  dark,  bright,  handsome  eyes  of  Di*(l>roWft 
fixed  full  upon  her,  and  colored  to  the  temples.     With 


A     STRANGE    MEETING.' 


165 


an  impatont  <j^esturc,  she  turned  a\vay,  and  seated  her- 
eelf  on  a  low  ottoman,  at  Jacinto's  iVet. 

Orrio  had  s])ninij;'  into  Frank's  arms,  and  was  cling- 
ing to  him  in  her  cat-like  fashion,  while  Frank's  coun- 
tenance maintained  an  expression  of  liauglity  dignity. 

"iSo;  you  needn't  kiss  me,  Miss  llowlet.  (Vnd 
you  had  better  get  down  oil'  my  knee,  and  go  hack  to 
that  big  monster  over  there.  If  you  like  him  ao  nuich 
better  than  me,  yon  ought  to  stay  with  him." 

'■'  Why,  you  ain't  mad — are  you  'C  said  Orrie,  giving 
him  a  shake. 

''Yes,  I  am  mad,  ]\[iss  Ilowletl  and  a  good  deal 
jealous  too.  I'efore  he  came  bothering  along,  and  cut- 
ting me  out,  I  used  to  come  in  for  all  your  kissing  and 
loving;  an<l  n<nv  1  have  to  phiy  seconddiddle,  and 
hardly  get  noticed  at  that.  It's  a  shame,  i\liss  llowlet; 
it's  a  confounded  shame;  yes,  an  abominable  shame, 
Miss  llowlet ;  and  1  wonder  how  you  (.'an  look  me  in 
the  face.  •  I  never  expected  such  treatnuMit  from  you 
— and  I  never  coidd  have  believed  it,  so  I  couldn't !" 

And  Frank  wiped  away  an  imaginary  tear,  with 
his  uncle's  handkerchief,  of  which  he  had  just  picked 
his  pocket. 

"  Well,  there! — don't  cry!"  said  Orrie,  giving  him 
a  penitent  scpieeze.  "1  didn't  do  it — 1  mea..  J  didn't  go 
for  io  do  it ;  and  1  do  like  you  ever  so  nnu-h  ;  but  then 
you  kn(AV  he's  real  luce,  and  1  have  to  like  him  too. 
Don't  you  like  him  <" 

"I^o;  1  don't!  I  hate  liim — an  un feeling  blood- 
thirsty monster!"  said  Frank,  with  a  ferocious  howl. 
"  I'll  shoot  him.  I'll  assassinate  him.  I'll  blow  his 
brains  out  with  the  lirst  loaded  crowbar  1  can  iind — 
eo  J   wil'  " 


histan^^^ly  Orrie  was  oil  his  knee;  her  black  eyes 
flashing,  and  her  small  list  clenched. 

''lie  ain't  a  tnonster,  you  great  big  Btory-teller, 
you  !  You're  a  monster  yourself!  .Vnd  if  you  shoot  him, 
I'll  shoot  you — mind  if  I  don't!'' 

"Hallo!  What's  all  this  ^"  said  Mr.  I )("  Vere,  looking 


fl^ 


•immSm 


'.sm:jfS!XS!!S^:.Z- 


166 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


V  ^ 


<•'  n 


lip.  "  Quarreling  already  ?  What  a  little  spitfire  it 
is?" 

"  It  ain't  me — it's  him  !  Calling  people  names  as  he 
has  no  husiness  to!  1  wish  you  would  speak  to  him, 
and  make  him  stop." 

"  Now,  Frank,  don't  tease  the  child.  WLy  can't 
you  let  her  alone  ?" 

"  Well,  I  am  letting  her  alone.  I  never  touched 
her,"  said  Frank. 

'"  Why,  Augusta,"  said  Jacquetta,  suddenly,  "  what 
do  you  see  so  wonderful  about  the  child  ?  You  have 
been  looking  at  her  so  intently  for  the  last  five  minutes." 

"Don't  you  see  it?"  said  Augusta,  with  a  look  of 
transient  interest  in  her  heavy  eyes. 

"  See  wdiat  {" 

"  The  resemblance  to — " 

"  I  see  it !  1  noticed  it  from  the  first !"  said  Jacinto, 
eagerly. 

"  To  whom  f  said  Mr.  Do  Vere,  while  a  slight  pale- 
ness overspread  the  face  of  Jacquetta. 

"To  Jacquetta,"  replied  both  togetlier. 

"  Tc  Jacquetta  'I  Bless  my  soul !"  said  Mr.  l)e  Yere. 
"Come  here,  liitle  girl,  until  1  see  you." 

Orrie  walked  over  with  imperturbable  composure, 
and  stood  gravely  before  him.  Mr.  \}^,  Vere  put  liis 
finger  under  her  chin,  tipped  u[)  hor  face,  and  looked 
at  her;  while  the  black  eyes  met  his,  unflinchingly. 

"Pooh!  she  doe^^n't  look  like  Jack,"  said  Mr.  Do 
Vere;  "she  has  black  eyes  and  black  hair." 

"  While  1  am  i2:ra\-eyed  and  red-haired  !"  broke  in 
Jaccpietta,  with  a  langli. 

"  And  she  is  as  dark  as  a  gipsy,  while  Jack  is  fair. 
Pooh  !  pooh  !  Where  are  y(tnr  eyes,  all  of  you  ^  Do 
you  think  she  looks  like  you,  Jack  V 

"  J  (ionfess  I  cannot  see  the  resemblance,  papa." 

"  The  likeness  is  not  so  much  in  features  as  in  ex- 
pression," said  Augusta.  "  I  did  not  notice  it  until 
Frank  angered  her,  and  then  the  look  was  exactly  the 


Bame. 


5) 


A     Sr RANGE    MEETINO. 


107 


it 


"  So  it  was,"  said  Frank.  "  Como  to  tliiiik  of  it,  elie 
did  look  like  Jack  that  time,  in  one  of  her  tantrums!" 

"  1  have  observed  it,  too  !"  said  Dishrowe.  "  It  is 
one  of  those  accidental  likenesses  we  sometimes  see  in 
strangers,  and  that  ])iizzles  us  so.  I  have  known  similar 
cases  several  times." 

^'  It  appears  Miss  Orrie  is  not  the  only  one  I  look 
like,  according  to  yon,  Captain  Dis])rowe!"  laughed 
Jacquetta,  "since  I  am  a  miniature  edition  of  Captain 
Nick  Tempest,  too.  Now  I  can  understand  how  I  look 
like  him ;  but  I  confess  I  am  it  a  loss  to  trace  a  resem- 
blance between  myself  and  this  dark  little  fairy  here." 

"  Is  she  going  to  stay  here  all  night  f  said  Mr.  De 
Vere. 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  so.  Come  here,  Orrie,  will  you 
sleep  with  me  to-night  V  said  Jacquetta. 

Orrie  nodded  assent,  and  yawned. 

"  That's  one  go-to-bed,"  said  Frank.  "  She'll  be 
asleep  presently,  if  you  don't  take  her  off.  I  rather 
think  1  will  turn  in  myself,  too,"  he  added,  getting 
up. 

As  it  was  already  late,  this  was  a  signal  for  all  to 
disperse;  and  Orrie  having  given  Disbrowe  a  parting 
embrace,  and  informed  him  he  was  to  see  her  home  the 
next  day,  was  led  olf  by  Jacquetta  to  her  own  room. 

Disbrowe  reached  his  pleasant  chamber;  drew  np  a 
chair  before  the  tire  ;  lit  his  cigar,  and  with  his  soul  in 
slippers,  prepared  to  take  life  easy.  Lost  in  thought, 
hours  passed  unheeded,  until  he  was  suddenly  brought 
to  his  feet  with  a  bound, by  a  sound  familiar  enough  now. 
It  was  a  strange,  far-olf,  eerie  music,  rising  and  falling 
faintly  and  sweetly  on  the  midnight  air. 

Instantly  a  determination  t,)  get  at  the  bottom  of 
this  mystery  entered  the  head  of  Captain  Disbrowe. 
Curiosity  was  strong  within  him  ;  but  that  was  not  the 
chief  impulse  that  sent  him  olf.  It  was  Jaccjuetta's 
connection  with  the  singular  alfair.  Anything  cou- 
ccrning  her  concerned  him  now;  and  determined  to 
discover   what   lii<ldeu    skeleton,    what    \\\\w    Iicsard't] 


A    STRANOE    MEETING. 


&  *      i\ 


hi- 
ll   li 


1' 

^'   1 

li 

'  1 

1 

1 1 

U  1 

cliamber  Fontelle  Hall  contained,  lie  was  down  stairs, 
througli  tlio  liall,  and  standing  alone  in  the  clear  moon- 
light almost  in  an  instant. 

That  there  was  some  other  enti-ance  to  this  north 
wing  he  was  convinced  ;  and  find  it  he  was  determined, 


if   he   had   to   search  until  morning. 


The  night  was 


almost  as  clear  as  day ;  the  moon  rose  clear  and  full  in 
the  heavens,  and  cast  fantastic  shadows  around  the 
stately  pile.  He  glanced  \\]),  and  saw  the  whole  house 
enveloped  in  darkness,  save  a  light  that  streamed  redly 
from  one  window — from  Augusta's  window,  he  knew. 
She,  then,  was  up  yet.  AVhat  was  she  doing?  Could 
it  really  be  sleepless  remorse  for  some  "  unacted  crime  " 
tliat  preyed  on  her  mind,  wearing  her  to  a  skeleton,  and 
making  her  the  living  petrifaction  she  was?  She  her- 
self had  acknowledged  that  it  was;  but  that  very 
acknowledgment,  if  nothing  else,  would  have  made 
Disbrowe  doubt  it. 

Tiiere  were  several  massive  doors  in  this  north  wing, 
and  little  d'Hiculty  in  disct)vering  them  ;  but  the  thing 
was  to  open  them.  Stiif  with  rain  and  storm,  and 
long  neglect,  they  were  almost  as  solid  as  the  wall 
itself,  and  he  soon  gave  up  all  hope  of  effecting  an 
entrance  by  means  of  tlieiu.  lie  fancied  that  down 
amid  the  ivy  there  might  be  some  aperture  in  the 
ruined  walls,  large  enough  to  jieriiiit  his  entrance. 
And  in  this  hope  he  was  not  disappointed.  Hidden 
among  the  clustering  vines  v,'as  what  had  once  been 
an  outer  entrance  into  a  sort  of  cellar,  the  door  of 
which  was  now  com])letely  broken  oif.  Wrenching 
away  the  ivv,  Disbrowe  i)assed  in,  and  discovered  a 
flight  of  stone  steps  at  one  end,  leading  evidently  to  the 
u])per  room,  lie  ascended,  and  found  himself  in  a 
large,  echoing,  desolate-looking  apartment,  with  oak 
wainscotting,  and  niches  in  the  wall  that  had  once  held 
statues,  but  were  hung  with  cobwebs  now.  Through 
the  high,  narrow,  diamond  paiied  windows,  with  their 
leaden  casements,  tlie  j)ale  moonlight  shone  brightly, 
casting  a  sort  of  ghostly  glare  around  the  dark,  desolate 


W    < 


A    STRANGE    MEETING. 


169 


room.  And  still  tlic  music  rose  and  fell,  and  swelled 
and  died  away  in  litful  gusts,  seemini^ly  near  at  hand. 
Following  the  sound,  lie  was  about  to  pass  through  the 
room  into  the  next,  when  an  unexpected  sound  struck 
his  car,  and  caused  him  to  fall  back  with  a  guilty  start, 
as  if  he  had  been  caught  in  some  unworthy  act. 

It  was  a  sound  of  voices  in  the  room  he  was  about 
to  enter — familiar  voices,  too,  speaking  in  suppressed 
but  passionate  tones.  Both  voices  were  recognized  in 
an  instant  as  those  of  Jacquetta  and  old  Grizzle  ilowlet. 

It  was  rather  a  startling  interruption  to  his  noctur- 
nal search.  Hitherto  he  had  scarcely  thought  of  it ; 
but  now  it  struck  him  as  a  base  return  of  his  uncle's 
hospitality,  this  attempting  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of 
his  household.  He  turned  hastily  to  descend  the  stairs 
•  and  escape  ;  ^  but  before  he  could  reach  them,  the 
sound  of  their  rapidly-advancing  footsteps  made  him 
turn  round  iind  seek  some  nearer  place  of  concealment. 
The  door  of  a  small  closet  stood  ajar  and  stepping  in  there, 
lie  softly  closed  it,  just  as  Jacqiietta  and  old  Grizzle 
entered  the  room. 

8 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


UNMASKED. 


"Break,  break,  brenk  ! 

At  the  foot  of  tliy  craj^s,  O  sea; 
But  the  teiiucr  <s;\-avc  of  u  clay  tliat  is  dead 
Will  uevor  come  buck  lo  me!" 

— Tennyson. 


Ill 


ik  1 

II   ll 


NE  moniont  later,  and  the  Honorable  Cap- 
tain Di.sbrowc  would  have  been  discovered; 
and  the  very  tliou^Iit  made  his  heart  throb 
and  a  sudden  heat  llush  into  his  face  in  the 
shelter  of  his  retreat.  He  could  fancy  tiiC 
mingled  scorn  and  ani^ry  surprise  in  the  clear,  bright 
eyes  of  Jaecjuetta,  at  beholding  him  there;  and  he 
would  sooner  have  encountered  a  legion  of  ghosts, 
single-handed,  at  that  moment,  than  the  little  gray-eyed 
girl  he  could  lift  with  one  hand.  Even  now  he  was 
liardly  safe — for  the  door  stood  ajar,  and  he  dared  not 
touch  it  lest  it  shouKl  creak:  he  scarcely  ventured  to 
breathe,  as  he  stood  there  waiting  for  them  to  pass  on. 

But  pass  on  they  did  net.  To  his  dismay  and  conster- 
nation, Jac(juetta  came  over  jmuI  stood  beside  the  win- 
dow, looking  out.  The  wir.dow  w'as  within  a  yard  of 
his  hiding-place,  and  her  face  v/as  turned  directly  to- 
M'ards  him — that  face  so  changed  again,  that  he  hardly 
knew  it.  Scorn,  hatred,  j)assion,  and  loathing  strug- 
gled for  mastery  there,  and  her  eyes  looked  tierce  and 
glittering  in  the  serene  moonlight.  One  snuUl  hand 
was  tightly  clenched,  and  her  lips  were  compressed  with 
a  look  of  liard,  bitter  endurance. 

Old  Grizzle  was  speaking,  as  they  entered,  in  a  tone 
of  jibing  mockery. 


I 


tliC 


UNMASKED. 


171 


"So  you  come  lion)  often,  do  you,  Jtu'Cjuctta f  she 
was  sayiui:;.  "  It  must  l)o  very  j)leasaut  fur  you  all  to 
be  Perenadod  uii^ht  after  iiii;lit  In  this  way.  Listen! 
a  bweet  strain  tiiat — was  it  not,  .laequetta  ^'' 

'' .May  it  deali'U  you  forever  as  vou  liear  it  !'' said 
Jae(]uetta,  liercely. 

"^.'ay,  Jac'(|uetta;  that  is  hanlly  courteous.  Let 
me  see — how  lon^*  is  it  since  you  and  1  stood  here  be- 
fore, listeniuii;  to  this  same  weird  music,  in  this  sumo 
gohHn  n^om  c  ' 

Jac(|U(?tta  made  a  passionate  gesture,  as  if  to  sileuce 
her,  but  spoke  not. 

"  You  iiavenot  forgotten,  my  little  dear,. liavc you  V 
sneered  Griz/le. 

"  Forgotten  !''  exclaimed  Ja('<pietta,  witli  passionate 
solemnity.  "()  my  God!  is  there  a  moment,  sleeping 
or  waking,  in'ght  or  day,  that  J  can  forget.  Oh  !  for 
the  watei's  of  Lethe  to  wash  from  niy  memory  the 
crimson  stain  of  that  day  in  my  lo>t,  darkened,  ruined 
childhood.  Oil!  my  blighted  life !  my  seared  heart! 
my  crazed  brain  !  forgotten  !'' 

81ie  struck  her  clenched  hand  on  her  l)rcast,  and  the 
dark,  ])assionate  solemnity  of  her  face  was  awe-striking 
in  the  cold,  pale  n)oon-rays. 

'•  Have  1  not  striven  to  forget?  Have  I  not  tried 
night  and  day?  Have  1  not  resolutely  ste  led  my 
lieart,  closed  my  brain,  to  ev(M'ything  that  could  recall 
the  terrible  wrong  done  me  in  my  childhood.  Child- 
hood!  Why  do  1  P])eak  of  it '^  J,  who  know  not  the 
meaning  of  the  word — who  never  was  a  child — who, 
at  the  age  of  fourteen,  when  oth(!r  children  are 
thinking  of  their  dolls  and  picture  hooks,  was — '' 

"  Whutf  said  Grizzle,  with  a  bitter  sneer.  "Why 
do  you  pause  f ' 

"  Lelore  I  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word  Memory," 
continued  ,)ac(pietta,  her  face  while  even  to  the  li[>s, 
'' I  was  ha})i)y.  I'o^^  know  the  sort  of  child  1  was — 
the  hapjnest,  merriest,  giddiest  fairy  that  (!ver  diinced 
in  the  moonlight.    Oh,  Grizzle  liowlet !  O  woman  with 


A 


UNMASKED. 


iJ! 


.  -i 


a  fiend's  heart !  wliat  had  I  done  to  yon  that  this  living 
death  was  to  be  mine  V^ 

"Come,  come,  .lacqnctta!  tliis  is  c:oini]j  too  far. 
Indeed,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  grateful  to  me  and 
your — " 

"  Name  her  not !"  cried  Jacquetta,  fiercely,  "  if 
yon  do  not  want  to  arouse  the  demon  that  is  within  nie 
— that  yon  have  seen  aroused  before  now  !  Since  I  have 
learned  what  it  is  to  remember,  my  whole  life  has  been 
one  continued  elfort  to  forget  !  I  am  not  made  of  steel 
or  stone,  and  1  tell  you  to  take  care!  for,  as  sure  as 
Heaven  hears  us  this  night,  a  day  of  retribution  will 
come,  and  I  will  be  avenged  !" 

"  Let  it  come  !''  said  Grizzle,  scornfully.  "  It  is  not 
Buch  as  you,  JackDe  Yere,  will  ever  make  me  blanch.'' 

"  You  know,"  said  Jacquetua  with  passionate  ve- 
hemence, "the  living  lie  1  am  !  You  know  the  mask 
I  have  to  wear  that  others  forged  for  me,  and  that  I 
vfiiist  wear  till  death  releases  me!  Am  I  to  be  held  ac- 
countable for  the  sins  of  others — for  your  crime  and 
hers^  whose  name,  if  1  mentioned,  I  should  be  tempted 
to  curse?  Will  God  judge  me  for  what  others  have 
done?  Woman,  I  tell  yow,  No!  At  the  great  day, 
when  lie  will  come  to  judge  the  qnick  and  the  dead,  I 
will  stand  before  His  throne  to  accuse  you  !" 

"  And  your — " 

"  Dare  to  name  her !"  almost  screamed  Jacquetta, 
with  a  tierce  stamp  of  her  foot,  "  and  I  will  hunt  the 
very  dogs  of  Fontelle  on  you,  to  tear  you  limb  from 
limb !" 

"  Come,  my  young  madam  !"  said  Grizzle,  nowise 
intimidated, "  enough  of  this  ranting !  [  came  for  my  little 
girl,  and  I.  nnist  have  her.  You  refused  to  give  her  to 
me  out  there,  and  I  followed  you  here.  Refuse  to  ^\\q 
her  to  me  here,  and  I  will  follow  you  to  your  room  and 
take  her  by  force  !" 

"  Your  little  girl !"  said  Jacquetta,  scornfully;  "as 
well  might  a  dove  call  a  wolf  mother.  That  child  Is 
nothing  to  you  I" 


UNMASKED. 


178^ 


(( 


as 


-4% 


"T?n'tslie?"  paid  Grizzle,  with  a  peculiar  laugh. 
"  Who  do  you  suj)i)ose  slic  is,  then  '\  I  should  hope  she 
is  ari  much  to  me  as  to  you." 

''  I  do  not  know  who  she  is  ;  if  I  did,  she  would  not 
remain  loni;  witli  vou.  But  I  will  discover,  and  free 
liei*  from  your  fangs." 

''  Tiy,  if  you  dare  !"  said  Grizzle,  defiantly  ;  "  try 
it  at  your  peril  !  It  will  be  the  darkest  day  that  will 
ever  dawn  for  y<»n,  dacquetta  De  Vere,  the  day  you 
discover  who  that  child  is  !" 

"  For  me  T  said  Jacqnetta,  bitterly.  "  Does  a  day 
ever  rise  for  me  that  is  not  dark?  Don't  think  I  am 
afraid  of  you,  Grizzle — that  day  has  gone  by.  You 
have  done  your  worst !" 

"Have  I  ^"  said  Grizzle.  "That  remains  to  be 
seen.  I  have  not  forgiven  you  for  your  jibes  and  taunts 
yet,  nor  for  the  scornful  contempt  with  whi('h  3'ou 
treated  my  son  Christojdier,  when  he  did  you  the  honor, 
and  made  a  fool  of  himself,  by  loving  you.  Don't 
think  I  either  forgive  or  forget  so  easily,  my  little  lady. 
Did  1  not  tell  you  once,  a  day  would  come  when  your  own 
flinty  heart  would  melt  to  quivering  llesli  ?  llave  you 
ever  read,  in  a  certain  nameless  book,  what  it  is  to 
'seethe  a  kid  in  its  mother's  milk'  'I  Well,  my  fierce 
little  eaglet,  such  a  fate  is  in  reserve  for  you." 

"  What  a  pity  you  ever  left  the  stage.  Grizzle !" 
said  Jacquetta,  M'ith  a  smile  of  withering  contempt. 
"  Yon  wouM  be  an  honor  to  the  profession  yet.  A 
speech  like  that  would  make  yrtur  fortune  !" 

"  1  am  on  as  tragic  a  stage  jnst  now,  in  real  life,  as 
ever  I  was  in  mimic  one !"  said  Grizzle  ;  "and  as  dark  a 
trag(  dy  is  enacting.  Do  you  think  I  am  blind,  dumb, 
and  besotted?  Do  you  suppose  I  do  not  know  what 
young  girls  are  i  I  say,  Jrcquetta,"  she  said,  with  a 
short,  hai'd  laugh,  "  what  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  to  have 
a  handsome,  dashing  young  otlicer  in  lonesome  old 
Fontelle!" 

A  streak  of  dark  red  flashed  across  the  face  of 


t, 


174 


UNMASKED. 


J.icqucttn,  and  flicn  faded  o^if,  leavinj;^  her,  even  to  the 
lips,  of  a  more  ashy  ]):ilefie^s  tliaii  ])efure. 

"Oh,  the  vanity  of  tliesc  ])Ui'|)('t>,  wlio  think  tli(»y 
can  outwit  me!"  said  (Jrizzle.  "J,  M'lio  can  read 
Iniman  liearts  like  open  hooks.  I  tell  y^>n,  Jaek  J)e 
Vere,  f  thanked  (lod,  for  the  llrst  time  in  a  score  of 
years,  wJien  I  heard  wiio  this  y('un<^  ollicer  was,  and 
wlierc  lie  was  goiiii^.  1  left  you  to  him  from  that 
moment;  I  left  his  hand  to  send  t]»e  holt  that  was  to 
pierce  your  iiani:;lity  heart !  And  that  holt  has  heeii 
Bped  ;  and  you,  in  whom  it  is  a  crime  to  love,  l(no 
him — the  man  who  desj)Iscs  you!  For — T  tell  you 
again — that  proud  yoniii^  Knidishman  would  not  marry 
you  to-mori'ow,  if  you  would  consetit  and  he  were  free 
— which  he  is  not.  You  know  it;  and  now  let  you 
learn,  in  darkest  despair,  the  lesson  you  taught  my  son 
— what  it  is  to  love  in  vain  !" 

"  Vour  son  V  said  Jacquetta,  with  passionate  scorn. 
"  You  do  well  to  mention  his  name  and  love  in  the 
same  hreath.  A.  ureat,  stuj)i(l  hoor — a  savage,  remorse- 
less cut-throat,  a  lit  com})anion  for  the  pirate,  and 
slaver,  an<l  outlaw,  Ca])tain  Nick  Tempest.  Oh,  yes ! 
wonderful  love  M'as  his!" 

"  Take  care  how  you  talk  of  Ca])tain  Tempest,  my 
dear,"  said  Grizzle,  with  a  sneer.  '•  Don't  say  anything 
against  him  until  y(.)U  know  who  he  is.  Did  you  ever 
hear  any  one  say  you  looked  like  him,  my  reddiaired 
beauty  V 

"We  did  not  come  here  to  t;dk  of  Captain  Tempest, 
did  waC  said  .Jac([netta,  with  a  gesture  of  an^-ry  im- 
patience.    "  What  do  1  care  for  him  or  3'ou  either  f 

"  Well,  the  day  is  at  hand  when  you  will  care  for 
hoth  of  us.  That  is  one  consolation.  The  day  wlien 
this  dashing  soldier — this  haughtiest  of  haughty  De 
Veres,  will  learn  who  it  is  he  has  stoo])ed  to  love — 
what  it  is  who  hears  his  proud  nanie.  liis  cousin,  for- 
sooth !" 

And  she  laughed  mockingly. 


UNMASKED. 


I""  ft 


The  white  face  of  Jacquctta  £rrow  a  shade  whiter, 
and  she  drew  a  louii;,  hard,  (|uiverin<j^  l)reath. 

"  Ah  !  yuii  erni  feel — you  can  suller !  Good  !  Do 
yon  not  fear  1  will  tell  this  seornful  lover  of  yourri? 
For  he  does  love  you,  Jacquetta,  with  all  his  heart  (uid 
soul,  and,  what  is  more,  believes  in  you — this  man 
whom  you  arc  ninht  and  day  deeeiviuij^!" 

kShe  did  not  .^peak.  IShe  elasped  both  hands  over 
her  heart  as  thoiiiih  it  were  bri^akintj;. 

"Think  how  he  would  des{)i>e  you — think  how  ho 
would  scorn  you — thiidv  how  he  would  loathe  you  if  he 
knew  all !  Oh,  this  <;lorious  revenge  of  nunc!  Did  I 
not  do  well  to  wait,  jiicquetta  i  And  my  waiting  will 
soon  be  over,  and  tlie  day  will  soon  he  here  now." 

Jaecjuetta  turned  from  the  window  with  a  hard, 
mockinii;  lauirh. 

"  What  if  I  forestall  your  communication,  Griz- 
zle?    What  if  I  tell  him  m'ysclf 'i" 

"You  would  not  dare  to." 

"  Would  I  not  i  Wait  till  to-morrow,  and  you  will 
see." 

'•You  would  not  dare  to.  I  repeat  it!  Bold  as 
you  ai"e,  you  have  not  courage  for  that !" 

"  Courage !  You  are  the  first  who  ever  accused 
me  of  a  lack  of  that  article.  I  have  courage  enough  to 
face  ;i  hungry  li(»n  just  now,  or  a  more  ferocious  animal 
still,  Grizzle  llowlet!" 

"Oh!  1  don't  call  you  a  coward  !  You  would  not 
be  your  father's  daughter  if  you  were  that.  And  mind, 
I  am  not  speaking  of  Mr.  Robert  Do  Yere  now.  But 
the  courage  that  would  make  you  face  a  raging  lion  is 
not  strong  enough  to  make  you  debase  yourself  in  the 
eyes  of  the  man  you  love  !" 

"  You  jump  at  eonelusions  too  fast.  Grizzle.  In  the 
first  place,  you  have  only  your  own  surnuse  that  I  have 
been  idiot  enough  to  fall  In  love — and  with  liim ;  and, 
secondly,  it  would  not  del)ase  me  in  his  eyes  if  he  knew 
all   this  instant.     There   is  no  crime  or  disgrace  con- 


I'    I 


176 


UNMASKED. 


]\  'I 


h  ! 


%  i 


nccted  witli — none,  at  lonst,  for  me.  The  sin  rests  on 
your  slioulders.     i  am  only  the  suH'crer." 

"  Wli,y,  tlic'U,  is  it  so  clost'ly  t'oiicciilcd  ?  "Wliy  is  it 
so  completely  liiddcn  from  Iiim?  Does  not  that  very 
secrecy  betoken  ^nilt?  Doubtless  lie  lias  heard  this 
same  music  tli:it  at  present  is  charmin<^  us,  and  won- 
dered at  it.  Perhaps  he  has  even  inquired  what  it 
meant." 

"lie  has." 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him?" 

"  AVliat  do  you  think  1  told  him  ?  "What  was  there 
for  me  to  tell  'i     1  lauijliLMl  at  the  notion  !" 

"  And  left  the  secret  for  me.  Thank  you,  Jacquetta. 
Oh  !  for  the  day  when  all  shall  be  revealed,  and  ho 
will  know  the  thi'i<2j  he  has  been  lovinij;!" 

"  Let  it  come  !"  said  .lacquetta,  strikiu2^  her  clenched 
hand  on  the  window-sill.  '-What  do  1  care  ^  One 
thing  is,  you  had  better  look  to  yourself  if  you  do,  lest 
Mr.  Do  Vere  should  suddenly  remember  he  is  a  magis- 
trate, a!id  you  are  a  nnu'deress!" 

"1  tioii'i:  fear  him,  thanks  to  his  haughty  daughter, 
Augusta.  I  iiave  her  head  under  my  heel,  and  can 
crush  it  when  1  please." 

"You  hold  her  by  some  imagiriary  power.  Augusta 
Do  Vere  would  not  stoop  to  commit  a  crime  to  save 
her  lite." 

"  Thal;\s  as  may  l)e.  My  ])()Wor  over  her  is  strong 
enough  to  kee)"»  me  from  all  fears  on  that  score  ;  and 
'  owever  imaginary  it  may  be,  it  is  a  terrible  reality  in 
your  case." 

"How  do  you  know  I  will  not  turn  informer? 
There  are  cells  and  chains  enoui!:h  in  Green  (hvek  to 
bind  (Jriz/le  I[<'\vlet,  and  rope  enough  to  silence  her 
poisonous  t(.)ngue." 

"  1  defy  you  !  Before  the  rope  could  silence  me, 
Augusta  De  Vere  would  be  a  cor[)sc.  Mind  !  1  make 
no  idle  threat ;  but  her  secret  once  breathed,  and  she 
would  n.ot  survive  an  hour." 

"  Better  a  speedy  release   from   your  tyranny  than 


It 


I 


UNMASKED. 


177 


this  slow  eating'  away  of  life,  yon  liideous  vampire ! 
She  is  fadinu  away  now  jikr  tiie  waning  moon  ;  and  be- 
fon;  an<»th('r  year,' will  be  in  her  ^rave,  and  you  will 
have  a  socfMu!  murder  to  answer  1<»r  !"" 

''  That  is  my  own  look-out.  It  is  notlfing  to  you  ! 
And,  ill  s})ite  of  all  your  vauntin;r,  you  have  no  more 
inteiition  of  doing  it, 'than  1  liave  of  strangling  you  this 
instant  ^\hcl•e  you  stand  !" 

"  J>etter  tor  nu;  you  wouhl — oh.  1>ettrr.  bettor  for 
me  you  would  I"  cried  Jae^ue^ta,  wringing  iu»r  hands. 

''1  know  that  ;  but  1  am  not  idiot  enoii-gh  to  f'wego 
my  revenge  in  such  fashion  !  AV  hen  the  fi'Wives  ofnes, 
you  will  fall  from  your  shaking  pedestal — iix^'  liurleJ 
l)ack  to  the  slin  e  whence  you  emerged — a  jriark  for  the 
linger  (»f  scorn  to  j)oint  at.  AVhat  will  liigli-s  lirited, 
bold-hearted  Jack  JJe  Vere  do  then  f'  said  Grizzle,  with 
J',  sardonic  sneer. 

''!She  can,  like  Caesar,  cover  lier  face,  and  die  with 
diirnitv,  if  need  be.  You  m;iv  alienate  one — him  o{ 
whom  you  sj)e;d<  ;  but  I  will  still  liave  an  hoU'^red 
I'onu^  in  Fontelle  ilall." 

'"  Will  you  i  Tiiat  remains  to  be  se(>n !  Wliat 
would  you  sav  if  J  should  tell  you  vou  would  i)e  cast 
out  witii  scorn  and  contumely  from  their  gates,  despised 
and  abhorred  i»y  all,  from  the  master  of  Kontelle  to  the 
lowest  menial  in  the  kitchen^" 

"I  should  call  it  wl'.at  it  is— a  lie!" 

'' It  is  the  ti'uth,  as  you  M'ill  lind  when  the  day 
comes.  Oil,  for  that  day  !  I  will  never  see  the  fiuii 
rise  till  it  dawns — that  blessed  day  that  will  lind  you  a 
beggared,  disgraced,  homeless  outcast !" 

"  Do  yonr  worst.     1  defy  you  !" 

"  Vou  A\  ill  change  your  tunc;  before  long.  Oh  !  you 
don't  know  (Irizdc;  1 1  owlet  vet,  I  set'.  ;)r  tJie  doom  that 
18  gathering  over  your  head.     Wait !'' 

"  I  intend  to,  and  will  brave  you  to  your  face  when 
it  comes  !"  said  Jacquetta,  \vith  a  short,  mocking  laugh. 

"  Ye:?,  you  may  laugh  now  ;  but,  in  the  end,  let 
those  laugh  who  win.     Y^ou  thiidv  now  you  could  bear 

8* 


hf 


I 


■■ 


178 


UNMASKED. 


\^- 


tliG  disgrace ;  and  pcrha[)s,  if  Mr.  De  Yere  and  Augusta 
alone  were  concerned,  yuii  mi^lit ;  but  this  tine  young 
stranger  (ali,  mention  hi/n^  and  30U  wince),  how  will 
yo.i  bear  Jiis .scorn,  jind  (ionteiiipt,  and  iiatred  i — no,  not 
hatred;  lor  ]ie  will  loathe  you  too  much  to  stoop  to 
hate !" 

"Let him!     JFeis  nothiui' tome  !" 

"  Very  true — he  is  another's;  yet  you  have  given 
him  your  whole  heart.  And  wluit  has  he  given  you  in 
return  C 

"His  love;'  said  Jac(pietta,  with  a  bright,  iierco 
tlash  of  her  ayQ^. 

"Ah!  he  has  told  you  so,  and  you  believe  him. 
Perlia])s  he  believes  it  himself  now;  and  if  so,  it  is  all 
the  better,  for  it  will  make  him  loathe  you  all  the  moro 
by-andby." 

"  Speak  no  more  of  him.  I  w  ill  not  listen,"  said 
Jacquetta,  clasping  both  hands,  with  the  same  invol- 
untary motion,  over  her  heart. 

"  Oblige  me  by  doing  so  a  moment  longer.  AYliat 
will  Mr.  De  Vere  say  when  he  linds  his  i)retty  daughter, 
Jactpietta,  has  listened  to  this  illicit  love,  and  returned 
it ;  she  the-—'' 

"iVace!"  shrieked  Jac(pietta,  with  a  frenzie^l 
stam])  of  her  loot.     "  Do  you  want  to  drive  me  mad  C 

"  l]y  no  means  !  [  should  be  very  sorry  i'or  such 
a  catastro})lie,  as  it  would  defeat  all  my  ])lans.  And 
now,  as  you  wish  it,  to  change  the  subject,  what  i\o 
you  think  of  this  handsome  Spanish  boy,  brought  over 
by  Captain  Xit'k  Tempest  C 

"  What  I  please." 

"  And  what  do  you  please  to  thiidc,  my  dear  young 
lady  'i  Do  b(!  alittle  morecomnumicativel  Extremely 
handsome — is  he  not,/!;/'  a  boy  f 

"  So  you  sav." 

"  Ihit  [  want  vour  oi)ini(m." 

"  Von  (r'lll  want  it,  then." 

"  There  is  no  danger  of  your  falling  in  lovo  with 
him,  1  trust,"  sneered  Grizzle. 


UNMASKED. 


179 


-a 


"Isliall,  if  I  choose." 

"Not  iiiucli  daniijer  of  your  clioosing  to  do  so, 
I  fancy,"  said  (xrizzle.  M'ith  a  contcinptiions  laugh. 
"*\Vhat  ducri  your  haudsoiiie  Euglish  cousin  thiuk 
of  liim  r 

"  A8k  him." 

"  Perhaps  I  f-;halh  I  want  to  consult  him  also 
about  XoiT.ia.  IJave  you  ever  heard  the  name  before, 
Jac(|U('tta  i" 

''  What  would  you  give  to  know?" 

"And  be  nothing  the  wiser,"  added  Grizzle,  with 
another  low,  sardoiJc  laugli.  "Siiort  and  sweet!  I 
thouglit,  |»erha2)8,  Captaiii  Disbrowe  nn"ght  have  men- 
tioned the  nan>e  in  his  declaration  of  love.  It  is  rather 
an  unusual  one.'' 

"isitr 

"Ask  Master  Jacinto  what  he  thinks  of  it?" 

"  I  shall  leave  that  for  you  to  do  along  with  the 
rest." 

"  Very  well.  I  am  equal  to  a  Spanish  boy,  or  any 
other  en.crgcncy.  Singular,  is  it  not,  that  he  should 
risk  his  lilo  for  a  complete  stranger  he  never  saw 
before  C 

"  Vou  say  so," 

"  And  more  singular  still,  that  the  Tlonorablo  Al- 
fred I)isl)rowe  should  l)e  stone-blind.  AVliat  says  tho 
old  song.  Jac(]U(ftta  i  '  What  will  not  woman  when  she 
loves!'     Take  care  (Japtain  Disbrowe  is  not  jealous." 

"Did  you  follow  me  here  to  moralize  on  love? 
IIow  much  longer  am  I  to  be  kej)t  here  listening  to 
this  trash  'i     Are  you  near  done  r' 

"  J  am  done  for  the  present !  I  will  go  when  you 
give  me  the  child." 

''Can  you  not  wait  until  to-morrow?  Ir  she  to  be 
taken  from  her  bed  at  this  hour  of  the  niglit  to  start  on 
such  a  cold,  weaiT  jom-ney  C 

"_  Yes.  It  will  teach  her  a  lesson,  the  young  imj)! 
I  will  learn  her  what  it  is  to  run  away  fronV  homo 
when  1  get  hold  of  her." 


180 


UNMASKED. 


"  Dare  to  touch  lier — lay  but  one  finger  ronglil;/  on 
her,  and  as  Heaven  liears  nie,  I  will  go  to  Green  Creek 
that  very  hour,  and  tell  the  W(.)rld  what  }ou  are,  even 
if  1  should  swing  beside  yon  !" 

The  was  something  so  appallingly  lierce  in  the 
young  girPs  tone,  in  her  bright,  glittering  eyes,  and 
eolorless  faee,  that  it  cowed  for  the  iirst  time  the  she- 
tiend  l>c{"ore  her  ;  and  muttering  an  inaudible  some- 
thing, she  was  silent, 

"  You  know  what  I  came  here  for — you  know  the 
errand  I  have  so  often  to  perform — that  1  must  per- 
form before  I  can  return  with  you.  AVill  you  stay 
here,  or  do  you  choose  to  accompany  me  and  look  on 
your  work '("' 

"Xo,"  said  the  woman,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Not 
in  there — 1  cannot  go !  1  will  "tay  here  till  you  come 
back  ;  but  be  quick." 

With  a  look  of  scornful  contempt,  Jacrpietta  turned 
and  left  the  room — passing  in  the  direction  whence  the 
weird  music  still  came.  An  instant  after,  it  ceased — 
not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard;  the  silence  of  the  grave 
reigned  through  the  lonely  room. 

Old  Grizzle  came  over  to  the  window  where  Jacquet- 
ta  had  stood  and  looked  out,  glancing  now  and  then  in 
something  like  fear  in  tlie  direction  the  other  had  gone, 
and  tlicni  slirinkinii;  closer  toward  the  liirht.  Jjefore  t(m 
imnwtes  had  elapsed,  Jaccpietta's  light,  quick  footstep 
was  heard,  and  her  voice  broke  the  deep  stillness,  say- 
ing, coidly : 

''  1  am  ready — come,  now." 

Grizzle  followed  her  ac;ross  the  room.  There  wa8 
the  sound  of  a  key  turning  in  a  rusty  lock,  then  the 
door  was  closed  and  locked  again,  and  the  next  instant 
Capti'.iu  Alfred  Disbrowe  was  alone  in  the  desolate 
room. 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


181 


CHAPTER  Xiy. 


PRIDE   AND    PASSION. 


, 


*'  I  know  not — I  ask  not 
If  ^mill's  in  tliy  heart  ; 
I  but  know  that  I  love  thee, 
Wluituvcr  thou  art." — MoORE. 


HAT  Captain  Di^browe's  feelings  were  whilst 
listeninuj  to  the  t^inj^nlar  conversation  in  his 
hi(lin<;-})lace,  may  Ih',  to  use  the  handy  old 
plu'ase,  "easier  inia_<z;ine(l  than  described." 
As  he  stepped  out  from  his  retreat,  his 
face  might  have  rivaled  .Jaccpietta's  own  in  its  extreme 
pallor.  And  eertaijily  he  had  heard  cnoun-h  to  make 
Iiim  even  as  eold  and  marble-like  as  lie  was  now. 

To  love  Jack  De  V^ere  was  ba  1  enough  ;  to  love  her 
whilst  engaged  to  another,  was  worse;  to  love  her 
knowing  her  envelojicd  in  some  dark  mystery  of  guilt 
or  disgrace,  worst  of  all." 

And  yet,  strange  perversity  of  j)assion,  never  had  he 
loved  her  as  be  did  at  that  moment.  k>tanding  there 
alone,  his  iM'ms  folded  (»ver  his  cbet-t,  motioidess  as  a 
statue,  her  image  rose  before  him  "a  dancing  shape,  an 
image  gay,"  radiant  with  yontli,  and  healtb,  aiul  hap- 
])iness,  and  beauty;  bewildering,  entrancing,  intoxicat- 
ing. Tbere  are  sonu;  who  never  appear  in  full  beauty 
until  some  strong  ]>assion  of  love,  (»r  hat nid,  or  anger 
rouses  them  to  new  lif(\  aiid  flac(juetta  was  one  of 
them.  lie  had  seen  her  in  a  new  plias(^  to-iiigbt,  as  she 
stood  there;  with  blazing  eyes  and  scoriifid  li[>s,  her 
snudl,  delicate  figure  di'awn  up  to  its  full  height,  a  little 
living  Hume  of  lire,  and  never  had  she  looked  so  really 


I  i' 


I'. 


V  ■ 


183 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


beautiful.  ITc  liad  seen  lier  often  inlier  gay,  pparlvling 
moods,  and  in  lier  ,u:;nivc  and  angry  ones,  too ;  but  this 
— tliis  was  soniethini;-  new. 

So,  nearly  an  Jionr  lie  stood  thereto  lost  in  tlior.glit, 
that  lie  heeded  not  the  ilight  of  time.  Jaeqnetta  !  Jac- 
([uetta  !  Jae(}nctta!  was  the  cry  of  liis  heart  still  ;  and 
in  that  moment,  ho  felt  as  if  he  eouM  have  taken  ]ier 
in  his  arms  and  shielded  her  against  all  the  woild.  One 
truth  was  thrilling  through  his  whole  being  in  iiereo 
shocks  of  joy.  IJe  loved  Jaeqnetta — Jacquetta  loved 
him ! 

From  his  trance — a  trance  axcYy  unfortunate  lover 
has  fallen  into  more  than  once — he  awoke,  at  last,  to  the 
hard  reality  of  beini»:  verv  cold  ;  and  an  uni'omantic  vision 
of  fevers,  and  agues,  and  rheumatic  chills  rising  sud- 
denly and  unpleasantly  Itefore  him,  he  turned  to  leave 
the  uncomfortable  tild  room.  lie.  ])auscd  a  moment  to 
contemplate,  with  intense  feelings  of  interest  and  curi- 
osity, the  doors,  one  at  either  end  of  the  room — that 
toward  the  left  l)eing  the  one  into  which  dacquetta  l»ad 
passed  toslillthe  weird  music;  the  other  to  the  right 
being  that  which  they  had  both  entered  la>t,  and  which 
he  conjectured  led  to  the  inhabit(>(.l  pai-ts  (d'  the  house. 
Even  had  he  desired  to  enter,  he  knew  he  could  not, 
for  Jac(]uetta  had  securely  locked  both  ;  so  giving  tlieni 
a  ])arting  glance,  he  ran  d()wn  the  stone  stairs  and 
puhsiMl  out  <if  the  apei'ture  by  which  he  had  entered. 

The  hall-door  ivniained  as  he  had  left  it — proof 
positive  that  neither  JacMpietta  nor  her  companion  had 
enteHMl  the  house  bv  its  means.  lie  softly  locked  it 
after  him,  and  then  asceiuling  the  stairs,  sought  his 
room— not  to  sleep,  but  to  pace  up  and  down  until 
niorninix  shoiild  dawn. 


Another  sensation  of  wonder  besides  that  relatin 


or 


to  .hic(pietta  tilled  his  mind.  Ilt^  had  heard  them 
mention  .Norma— -what  knew  he  of  lu-r^  Thar,  both 
knew  she  had  been  his  liegedady  whilst  in  England 
was  evident ;  and  that,  he  felt  convinced,  was  the  reason 
why  Jacquctta  had  so  scornfully  and   indignantly  re- 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


183 


I'oof 

it 

Ilia 

Hiiitil 


jeeted  liim.     Wlmt  if  he  slioiild  \r^\'c  up  tliis  liii:j]i-l)om 
/zVm<w  of  his? — wliat  if  lie  sli(»iild  oiler  to  Fiuiviider 


/ 


wealth  and  rank,  to  brave  the  han,nhty_ anger  of  Ids 
relative.^,  and  the  scofVs  and  siieei-.s  of  his  aristocratic 
friends,  all  for  her  and  love  ^  Surely  sueh  a  })roof  of 
devotion  nmst  awaken  sonic  return  in  her  Hinlj  breast ; 
surely,  then,  he  could  conquer  the  con(iueress,  mako 
the  Merce  yoinig  lioness  crouch,  cowed  and  tame,  at  his 
feet.  Ihit  had  he  courage  for  such  a  saci-iiice — was 
she  worth  it  i  Sonie  day,  and  most  probably  t-oon,  ho 
would  be  Earl  of  Karneelille  and  JJaron  of  Ciuwlford  ; 
and  did  not  he  (nv(^  something  to  the  world  and  his 
high  position?  And  more,  did  he  not  owe  a  great 
deal  to  this  lady  betrothed  of  liis  at  home?  True,  lio 
remend)ered  the  engagement  had  been  uone  of  his 
making,  but  that  of  KarnecHIVe  and  the  lady's  fatln  r, 
who  wished  to  see  the  families  united;  the  former, 
because  the  lady  was  unexceptionable  in  beauty  and 
family,  and  would  have  an  immense  dowry;  and  tho 
Intter,  because  he  wished  his  daughter,  who,  with  all 
her  wealth,  was  simply  Miss  Macdoiiald,  to  have  a  title 
and  be  a  countess.  But  he  himself  had  gi.enata<'it 
consent.  ile  had  ac(puesced  nonchalantly  enough, 
when  his  lu'other  informed  him  of  it,  and  proceeded  to 
woo  the  young  lady,  Ihen  a  romantic  school-girl,  in 
true  orthodox,  g(Mitlemanly  fashion.  He  was,  as  he 
said  himself,  a  poor  devil  of  a  younger  brother,  with 
expensive  tastes  and  habits,  and  slightly  extravagant  if 
the  truth  niust  be  told;  and  the  income  he  derived 
from  the  earl  was  far  inadecjuate  to  his  ex])enses. 
True,  he  would  be  an  earl  himself  some  day,  and  ono 
of  the  wealthiest  i)eers  of  the  realm  ;  but  as  he  eotdd 
not  live  on  that  hope,  and  as  EarnecliU'e,  though  sulVer- 
ing  from  a  disease  liable  to  carry  him  olf  at  any  mo- 
ment, might  still  see  tit  to  live  a  dozen  years,  he  must 
liave  sonn'thing  to  live  on  in  the  meantime.  And 
Norma  JMacdonald's  fortune  v.-as  just  the  thing — her 
ten  thousand  a  year  would  suj>i)ly  him  with  spending 
money  comfortably,  i)ay  his  debts,  keep  him  in  palu 


I 


184 


PItlDE    AND    PASSION. 


¥  1 


itt;: 


ale  and  kid  gloves,  l)iiy  lilm  a  yaclit  at  Cowes,  let  him 
ow.i  a  liorse  at  the  DorI)v,  and  kcoj)  a  dashing  four-in- 
hand  in  town.  It  was  ju.-^t  tiie  thing  for  him — couldn't 
i\o  hotter  it"  he  was  to  try;  whieli  he  was  a  great  deal 
too  indolent  to  do.  So  ho  elosed  with  the  olter  and 
the  lady  at  onee. 

It  was  ratiier  a  bore  to  he  ohliged  to  make  love  to 
her,  to  be  sure — to  fan  her,  ;uid  attend  her  to  the  o]>era, 
and  turn  over  her  mnsie  when  she  pla^'cd  ;  but  these 
were  neeessary  evils  that  every  man  had  to  suffer 
through,  some  time  or  otiier  in  his  life,  and  he  sup- 
posed he  nn'ght  as  well  make  nj)  his  mind  to  be  re- 
signed, and  begin  at  onee.  !So  he  yawned,  made  him- 
self faseinatiug,  and  set  olf  to  eaptivate  Miss  Norma 
Maedonald.  And  he  succeeded  to  perfection.  Mis3 
ISorma  fell  violently  in  love  with  him,  then  and  there, 
and  he  came  pretty  near  doing  the  same  with  her,  too. 
Snrpas>ingly  beautiful  she  was — the  most  su|»erb  speci- 
men of  the  superb  sex  lie  had  ever  seen,  even  then,  al- 
though she  was  not  more  than  iifteen  years  of  age.  ller 
beauty  was  of  a  rare  and  singular  sort,  with  large,  dark, 
lustrous  eyes  anil  golden  hair,  a  snowy  compK'xion,  and 
the  most  perfect  of  hands  and  i'eet.     Kuiuantic  and  im- 


))ulsive  she  was   m   the  extreme 


had 


reaa  no  en 


d  of 


novels,  and  was  quite  ready  to  love  the  lirst  tolerably 
handsome  young  man  who  came  in  her  way,  from  a 
duke  to  Jeames  the  footman.  And  Captain  JJisbrowe, 
the  dashing,  handsome,  gallant  young  guardsman,  was 
just  the  one  to  caj)rivate  a  su.-ceptible  heart  of  lit'teen. 
IShe  had  hear^l  stories  ol*  his  [)rincely  extravagance,  of 
his  wild  deeds,  and  tlxe  thousand  an.d  one  scrapes  he  was 
constantly  getting  into;  but  few  yoimg  ladies  are  dis- 
posed to  like  a  man  the  less  for  sucli  a  rej)utation. 
Norma  Macd»^nald  certainly  was  not.  And  never  was 
scapegrace  better  loved  than  was  the  handsome  young 
otlicer  by  her.  His  feelings  towards  her  were  an  odd 
mixture.  He  was  pioiul  ot'  her,  th;it  was  certain  ;  ho 
knew  she  would  one  dav  be  a  star  of  the  lirtit  niagnitudo 
in  the  world  of  beauty  and  fashion  j  that  he  would  bo 


PRIDE    AND    r ASSIGN. 


185 


envied  by  every  man  of  liis  aoqiialntaTiec  when  sho 
would  enter  society  ;  that  she  would  make  a  sensation 
when  j)reseuted  at  court;  and  would  he  an  unrivaled 
Latlv  Karneclilfe,  and  do  the  honors  of  Disbrowe  Park 
entranciuiiily.  And  was  nc»t  that  enouich  (  lie  liked 
her  well  enouu'h ;  he  mu.'it  marry  somebody,  and  she 
was  just  the  thing,  in  every  re.^^pect.  yiie  loved  him, 
too,  which  was  another  consideration,  although  he 
knew  very  well  she  would  liave  loved  Tom  Vane  or 
l.oi-d  Anstrey,  his  fast  frien<ls,  just  the  same  if  they 
had  enteral  rlie  lists  iirst.  As  it  was,  she  loved  him 
with  her  whole  heart,  and  him  only  :  and  being  a  little 
grateful,  and  a  good  deal  proud,  he  felt,  on  the  whole, 
perfectly  satislied  with  the  arrangement. 

Jle  did  not  love  her,  to  be  sun; ;  but  though  he  had 
llirted  from  the  ago  of  eighteen, when  he  had  taken  moon- 
liirht  rambles  throuii'h  old  Fontelle  with  the  daughter  of 
liis  father's  steward,  he  had  never  entertained  a  yrande 
pas.sio)i  for  anybody,  and  did  not  believe  he  was  capa- 
ble of  it — did  not  desire  any  such  thing,  in  fact:  it 
would  Ije  such  a  bore  to  be  violently  in  love  !  And  so 
things  wei-e  in  this  satisfactory  state,  and  the  course  of 
true  love  was  running  as  smooth  as  a  mill-dam,  when 
the  young  guardsuian  got  a  conmiis.-.ion  in  a  regiment 
ordered  to  Ireland,  aud  led  a  gay  life  of  it,  for  two  or 
three  years,  altei'uately  in  that  "  beantiful  city  called 
Cork,"  and  the  capital  of  the  iMuerald  Isle,  while  Miss 
Is'orina  was  ins[)iring  her  mind  and  kissing  tlie  minia- 
ture of  her  dashing  lover  within  the  consecrated  walls 
of  a  fashionable  l)oar<ling-sc-hool.  Then  he  returned 
to  Kngland,  to  avoid  the  (tonM.M^uonces  of  some  tremen- 
dous scrape  he  had  got  into  in  Dublin,  saw  his  ehere- 
amie,  who  had  grown  a  thousand  times  more  beantiful 
than  ever,  and  twice  as  mudi  in  love,  from  constantly 
thinkingof  her  absent  truant.  MissNorma's  papa  and  the 
Honorable  Alfred's  brother  wished  the  marriage  to  take 
place  on  the  young  lady's  nineteenth  birthday;  and  the 
young  lady  and  gentleman  being  v/illing  enough,  settle- 
ments were  made,  and  everything  got  ready  for  the  im- 


•i 


'I! 


I' 


rniDE    AND    PASSION. 


t  oppasion.     And  nioantiiiic,  by  \\nyof  a  clianixe, 


n 


Dl.sbrowo  t()(*k  it   into  liis  LTnitic.  1i(m<I    tli:it  a 
;iy  id  kill  tiino  wuuld  Ix)  to   visit   America,  and 

le 


[)  his  ni')tlu'r's  relatives,  the  I)e  V^jivs — whicii  1 

his  co.-t,  as  tlie  reader  already  knows. 

these  tliini,rs  were  |)assinii;  in  review  tlironuli  In's 

i(»w.      IFciiad  coMie,  \\(\  had   seen,  and   intended 

jtier,  and  had   heen  eoiKjiiered   instead,  a; :d  by  a 

ray-eyed,  r(Ml-haired  i;'ii'!,  ten  deicrecs  less  heatiti- 

n  ^^(I'nia  ^laedonald,  who  loved  hiin,  and  whom 

not  love — thouii'h  that  alone   niii^ht  account  for 

!  had  heen  so  Ioiil;  aeeustonied  to  easy  conquests, 

s  deiiant,  free-and-easy   Jersey  witch  ])r<n'oked, 

,  and  interested  him.     J>etween  heini^  interested 

uni;;  lady  and  fallinu^  in   lovt*   with    her,  there   is 

te[)  ;  and  before  the   Honorable  Alfred  knew  he 

ucun,  he  was  already  ])ast  prayiniz;  for.     That  he 

could  antvA'Uun  II  (//'(uu/e  j)assio/h  he  found  to  his  cost 

— that  life  without  Jack  J)e  \'ore  would  be  a  miserable 

affair,  not   worth  havini^,  he  found,  too.     l>ut  whether 

she  took  the  same  view  of  the  ease  v/iih  re:Li::ard  to  him, 

he  was  at  a  loss  to  know.     Jle  would  have^iven  worlds 

to  know  how  she  discovered  the  secret  of  his  en^a^c- 

luent   to    Norma;  for  he  was  positive  Karneeliife  had 

never  told  tluMn,  and   he  was  equally  positive  that  both 

she  and  old  drizzle  Ilowhit  knew  of  it.     There  was  no 

accountini]^  for  it,  (except  by  the  fact  that  one  or  both 

was  a  witch ;  and  lookini;' up  at  the   smiliuir,  niockini^ 

face  on  the  wall,  he  felt  half  inclined  to  b's^lieve  that 

Jacquetta  was  one. 

What  between  paciu'i;  up  and  down  his  room  for 
three  mortal  hours,  and  tliiidcini^  with  all  his  might. 
Captain  Disbrowe  succeeded  in  workinij;  himself  up  to 
a  pretty  hii;h  state  of  excitement,  at  last,  lie  was  be- 
tween the  horns  of  a  dilemma  ;  he  cotdd  not  tell  what 
to  do.  One  moment,  he  resolved  to  cast  windth,  and 
rank,  and  the  world's  o[)inion,  to  the  winds,  and  ij^ive  up 
all  for  Jacquetta.  The  next,  the  terrible  thought  of 
*'  what   will   Mrs.   Grundy   say  i"  staggered  him ;    for 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


187 


mp:©, 


I 


thonpjli,  in  all  probability,  Cnptain  Dis])rowc  bad  never 
lieanl  of  the  huly,  bo  dreaded  lier  quite  as  nmeb  as  yoii 
do,  my  dearest  reader.  How  could  be  brave  tbe  aii'-i'er 
of  Lord  Karneelillc.  and  tbe  banirbty  amaze  and  dixlain 
of  bis  wi!;e,  Lady  Marij::aret,  one  of  tbei)n>ndest  wouieii 
be  bad  ever  known  ^  Jf  .sbo  were  really  a  De  VcM-e, 
wbieb  ber  looks  and  tbe  strani^e  conversation  be  liad 
overbeiu'd  seemed  to  contradict,  sbo  was  bis  equal,  at 
IciLst,  in  birtb;  but  bow  dare  be — one  of  tbose  nustakes 
of  Aaiiire,  u  yi»un<2;er  brotber — poor  as  aclunvb-niouse, 
tliink  for  a  moii.  lit  of  indulu:in;iz;  in  tbe  luxury  of 
marrvinij  a  penniless  <:;irl,  simply  bccaubo  bo  was 
absuid  <'iiouyli  to  love  lier^  ^^  I'v,  all  London  would 
laui^b  at  bim  ;  and  tbere  is  notbini;-  a  true-born  Jjriton 
cannot  stand,  except  binni^  lauL;-bed  at.  And  Norma — • 
bow  was  be  to  face  ber,  wben  tbere  was  even  a  remote 
possibility  ot"  ber  dyinui;  of  a  bi'okeu  lieart,  and  a  still 
greater  ])(j.ssibility  of  lier  fatber,  a  re_u-ular  Scotcb  lii'O- 
cater,  foUowin*^  bim  over  tbe  world,  from  tbe  Pyramids 
of  LL^vpt  to  tbe  wilds  of  New  .Jersey,  to  blow  bis  brains 
out  '.  And  at  tliat  moment  be  balf-wisbed  some  kind 
friend — Captain  Tempest,  for  instance — would  ])(;rforni 
tbat  act  of  mercy,  if  oidy  to  kee[)  bim  from  i;<»in<(  dis- 
tracted in  bis  dilennna.  Tbere  was  anotber  annovinif 
little  tbouii:bt  tbat  would  ])ersist  in  intrudin*^  itself,  too  : 
If  Jacquetta  was  not  a  L)e  \'ere,  wbo  was  sbe  i  wbat 
was  sbe?  JJke  all  tbe  I'cst,  it  was  a  question  easier 
asked  tban  answM'ed.  and,  like  tbe  rest,  intensely  dis- 
ai^reeable  ;  but  ii  be  face  of  everytbinix,  one  conviction 
was  ever  uppermost — tbat  bo  loved  ,Jac(pietta  as  bo 
never  bad  loved  before — never  could  love  a;i:ain. 

"  If  1  were  IS'ed  lirown,  of  tbo  Guards,  witb  bis 
ci^bt  tbousand  a  year,  I  v/ould  marry  ber  to-morrow," 
was  bis  concludinii^  exclamation.  '•  Wbat  a  deuce  of  a 
Ibinijj  it  is  for  a  man  to  be  tied  up  band  and  foot,  as  I 
am,  and  not  able  to  l)udii;e  an  iticb  to  tbe  )•i^•bt  or  left ! 
Confound  all  aristrocratic  bii:^b  and  miij;lity  relations,  I 
say!  and  may  tbo  demon  lly  away  witb  all  nuitcb-mak- 
ing  friends,  forevermore!     Amen.     O  Jacquetta!  Jac- 


M, 


I 


lii 


m 


S>^.  '"^^^^  A 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


I 


1.0    ;rK-  1^ 


I.I 


1.25 


u    Ilk 

t    I4£    mil  2.0 


M 

2.2 


1.8 


U     III  1.6 


P^ 


.% 


/'>< 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


«^ 


% 


V 


^ 


Jl    !   ) 


188 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


■  '  t 


'I         i! 


M' 


1 

! 

1 

i  i 

IV 

111 

qnetta  !  I  wisli  to  Tlcaven  I  had  tied  a  mill-stone  to  my 
iicek  and  jinnped  into  the  S'irpeiitine,  tlie  day  I  first 
took  a  notion  to  eonio  to  America.  And  I  wish  Miss 
Norma  Maedonald  and  the  noble  Earl  of  Earneclille 
were  in — Coventry  ! — I  do  !" 

AV^ith  this  charitable  apostrophe,  Captain  Dis- 
hrowe,  becomijiu;  suddenly  aware  that  the  breakfast- 
bell  had  ruiiLC^  went  down  stairs  and  encountered  the 
object  of  all  his  thonii;]its  and  perplexity  crossing  the 
hall,  lanii'hiiii^  merrily  with  Jacinto,  and  lookinii;  bright, 
san(*y,  and  ])i(piant  as  ever.  Cayiy  saluting  him,  she 
lixed  liei"  eves  on  his  face,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  Cousin  Alt',  what's  the  matter?  Yon  look 
as  if  you  l'a<l  seen  a  ghost  last  night,  or  had  an  attack 
of  the  m'ghtmare  !  Just  look  at  him,  Jacinto.  AVhat 
has  happened,  my  dear  cousin?" 

"■  IS'othini>:  nnich.     1  have  had  bad  dreams." 

"And  bad  dreams  have  been  powerful  enough  to 
give  that  look  to  the  face  of  the  most  high,  puissant, 
and  illustrious  Captain  JJisbrowe  i  Whew  !  What  were 
they  about.  Cousin  Alfreds  [  am  a  regular  female 
edition  of  Joseph  for  interpreting  dreams." 

''  W'ell,  they  were  of — you." 

"Indeed!  Dear  me,  how  flattered  I  feel!  And 
what  did  you  dream  of  me,  coz  V 

"  That  you  and  somebody  else  were  plotting  to  be 
the  death  of  me." 

"  Possible  ?  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  came  true,  too  I 
"Who  was  the  other?" 

He  H\ed  his  eves  keeidy  on  her  face. 

"Old  Cirizzle  Jlowlet^" 

She  started  with  a  shock,  and  looked  at  him.  He 
had  expected  she  would,  and  met  her  gaze  carelessly. 

"Indeed!  'indeed !''''  she  said,  sharply.  "  PerJiapa 
yon  also  dreamed  where  this  meeting  took  place  ?" 

"Certainly.  W^ien  I  do  dream,  I  always  pay  at- 
tention to  it,  and  omit  no  detail.  It  was  somewhere  in 
an  old,  dciserted  room,  I  believe." 

"  Ah  ?"  slie  said,  witli  a  paling  cheek,  and  a  rising 


PRIDE    AND    passion: 


189 


to  my 

I  first 
li  Miss 
leclille 

1    Dis- 

;  Ilk  fast- 
red  the 
,ng  the 
briglit, 
in,  she 

»u  look 
attack 
Wiiat 


)iigh  to 
iiissant, 
at  were 
female 


And 
to  be 

LOj  too  I 


n.     He 

L'ssly. 
V'rJiaps 

pay  at- 
Jiere  in 

1  rising 


fire  in  her  eye.     "  Perhaps  you  can  also  tell  me  what 
we  raid  ?'' 

There  was  somctliing  so  sliarp,  suspicions,  and  an- 
gry, in  her  tone,  that  Jacinto  looked  at  her  in  extreme 
burpriso. 

"Why,  Jaccpietta!"  lie  exclaimed. 

Disbrowe's  face  ilushod,  and  his  eye  flashed  witli  a 
jealous  fire.  To  hear  this  handsome  l)0y  call  her  Jac- 
quetta  so  familiarly,  to  watch  her  as  she  h^aiied  on  his 
arm,  as  she  had  never  consented  to  do  on  liis,  was  gall- 
ing to  the  extreme. 

"What  did  we  say  f '  repeated  Jacquetta,  im- 
petiously. 

"  Really,  Miss  Jacquetta,''  he  said,  half  coldly, 
"one  would  think  I  was  describing  a  reality  instead  of 
a  dream.  How  can  I  tell  what  you  said  i  Who  can 
remember  what  is  said  in  a  dream  T' 

"Such  a  remarkable  dream!  you  surely  can,"  she 
said — two  red  spots  that  only  anger  or  deep  excitement 
could  over  call  there,  burning  on  either  cheek. 

"JS^o;  I  cannot.  And  i  do  not  see  anything  re- 
markable in  your  meeting  the  old  lady,"  he  said,  in  an 
indifferent  tone. 

"  Nor  in  our  plotting  to  murder  you — stranger  things 
have  happened.  Are  you  sure  you  locked  your 
chatnber-door  last  night  on  retiring.  Captain  Dis- 
browe  ?" 

"A  singular  question;  but  yes,  I  rather  think 
I  did." 

"  And  you  are  not  given  to  walk  in  your  sleep, 
occasionally  ^" 

"  in  my  sleep  ?  No,  never."  And  he  looked  at 
her  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

Jacinto  lauiihed. 

"Keally,  Jacipietta,  one  would  think  you  were 
£ross-examining  him  as  if  he  were  on  trial  for  shop- 
lifting. 1  shall  be  careful  how  I  tell  you  what  I 
dream." 

Jacquetta,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Disbrowe's  face, 


\r "  'Jf^' 


190 


PRIDE    AND    PASSIOHr. 


i     i(? 


fa    '*:, 


1    ii' 


Hlf:     «■ 


:'  'I 


<«1 


and  a  stranf^e  p;littcr  in  their  lustrous  depths,  drew  a 
h)n£>;,  liard  breatli,  and  said  nothin^j^.  l/is  eyes  were 
Hxed  curiously  on  .laeinto — t/uit  latujh  !  surely  it  was 
not  the  lirst  time  he  had  heard  it.  .facinto  noticed 
his  look,  and  colored  slightly  through  his  brown  skin. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  half  annoyed,  half  laughing,  "is 
it  my  turn  next?" 

"Do  you  know',"  said  Dishrowe,  "I  have  the 
strangest  idea  that  I  have  seen  you  somewhere  before. 
P>ut  I'oi-  your  foreign  accent,  and  your  dark  hair  and 
comi)lexioii,  1  could  sw^ear  you  were — " 

"  Whof'  said  Jacinto,  as  he  paused. 

"You  will  laugh,  but  a  lady  I  knew  in  England. 
You  reminded  me  of  her  from  the  lirst,  in  some  odd, 
unaccouutable  wa\,  and  your  laugh — if  1  had  not 
looked  at  you  that  time  I  could  swear  it  was — " 

"Norma!"  laughed  Jacquetta. 

"l>y  Jove!  you've  hit  it!  Jhit  what  do  }ou  know 
of  Norma  T' 

"J  had  a  dream,"  said  elacquetta,  with  a  malicious 
tAvinklo  of  her  eye.  "  I  dreauied  (Japtain  Disbrowe 
was  to  be  married  to  a  certain  Miss  Norma  Macdonald 
when  she  would  attain  her  nineteenth  birthday,  and  that 
he  only  camo  to  America  to  kill  time  during  the 
tedious  interval.  Ahem!  You  see  others  can  dream 
besides  you,  my  good  cousin." 

Disbrowc  stood  fairly  dumb  with  amazement,  and 
his  color  came  and  went.  Jacquetta's  wicked  eyes 
sparkled  with  triumph. 

'"  1  say  !"  called  Frank,  at  this  interesting  juncture, 
thrusting  out  his  head  through  the  parlor-door,  "do 
you  mean  to  come  to  breakfast  to-day,  or  are  we  all  to 
starve  in  here,  while  you  three  talk  scandal  out  there?" 

"  We  weren't  talking  scandal,  Frank  dear,"  said 
Jacquetta.  "  C.q)tain  Uisbrowe  and  I  were  merely  re- 
lating two  singular  drean)s  we  had  last  niglit." 

"  Oh  !  you  were — were  you  r'  growled  Frank.  "  A 
pretty  way  that  to  spend  the  morning,  and  keep  re- 
Bpectablo  Christians  that  don't  believe  iu  such  heathen- 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


191 


IS 


''  do 


(( 


A 


ish  tliinc^s  as  dreaniF  fasting  in  hero,  till  they  foel 
ravenous  enou£;-h  to  eat  a  Quaker's  i^rauduiotlier.  I'lo 
surprised  at  you,  (Japtiiiu  Dishrowe !"  said  Fraidv, 
thrastini^  his  hands  in  his  poelvt'ts,  and  spuakinij^  in  a 
tone  of  g-rave  rehuko,  "a  youiiii;  person  that's  had  your 
brou'j;hten  nj:),  to  helieve  in  sueli  su|iei"stition,  which 
corrupts  the  mind,  debases  the  constitution,  iindeianines 
the  in(jrals,  detiles  the  heart — there  !  come  to  break- 
fast !" 

"Detiles  the  heart — conic  to  l)reakfast !  A  pretty 
brace  of  subjects  to  strinu^  toi^'ether,"  sai<i  Jacquetta. 
"  Come,  Coujin  All",  it  won't  do,  you  i)erceive,  to  keep 
this  hunirry  cousin  of  ours  waiting;  any  longer." 

She  j)assed  her  arm  through  Jacinto's  and  went  in, 
followed  by  Captain  Disbrowe.  If  ever  man  was 
"taken  aback,-'  whatever  that  means,  the  Honorable 
Alfred  was  that  man,  at  that  jnoment ;  and  if  ever  a 
man  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  madly  jealous,  it  was  he 
likewise.  It  would  have  been  a  comfort  to  have  taken 
this  provokingly-hiindsome,  dark  eyed  .young  foreigner, 
and  pitched  him  lu^ck  and  crop  ou^  of  the  front  door; 
but  even  that  small  consolation  was  denied  him.  And 
in  a  frame  of  mind  tho  i-^verse  of  seraphic,  he  took  his 
place  at  the  break  fast-table. 

"Why,  Jack! — 1  say,  Jack!  where's  little  Orrie 
Ilowlct  C  inipiired  Fraid-c,  in  surprise. 

"(rone,''  said  Jac<[uetta,  curtly. 

"  Gone  !"  cchocil  llie  young  gentleman.    "  Where  V 

"  Home — to  the  imi." 

"  Home  !     Go  away  !  she  couldn't  go  so  early." 

"  lias  she  really  gone,  Jack  f '  said  Mr.  De  Vere,  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Why,  when  did  she  go  ?" 

"Late  last  night— just  before  I  retired.  Old  Grizzle 
came  after  her.     Was  that  i)art  of  your  dream,  cousin  V 

Disbrowe  smiletl,  and  bowed  slightly. 

"  Oh,  she  did— did  she  C  said  Vrank.  "  How  did 
Orrie  like  that  'C 


} 


jr  r   f* 


a*. 


Wii 


ft, 


192  Pii!/Z>^    ^iVi)    PASSION. 

"She  didn't  like  it  at  all.  She  would  liave  pre- 
ferred reinainini>;  until  moriiing,  aii<l  beiiif^  escort(M;l 
home  by  Captain  Dishrowo,  for  whom  she  has  evidently 
conceived  a  rash  and   inordinate  attachment." 

"Which  I  ho[)e  you  return,  Alfred,"  said  Mr.  De 
Vere,  smiling:;. 

"Certainly,  sir.  Yoii  don't  thiidc  I  could  be  uni^^'d- 
lant  enouii;h  to  refuse  so  slight  a  f  avor  to  a  youni^  lady." 

"And  so  you  make  a  j)()int  of  loving  every  girl 
who  chooses  to  take  a  fancy  to  you." 

"  Undoubtedly !" 

"  Really,  now!  hov/ excessively  kind  of  you!"  ex- 
claimed Jacquetta.  "  And  how  many  girls  have  the 
good  taste  to  love  you  annually,  Captain  Disbrowe?" 

"  J  regret  I  cannot  tell  you — I  never  war  a  proficient 
in  comj)lex  arithmetic." 

"  Poor  little  Orrie  !"  said  Frank.  "  It  was  a  shame 
to  take  her  oiL     I  wonder  she  went  at  all." 

"  Unfortunately  she  had  no  choice  in  the  matter. 
But  don't  distress  yourself,  Francis,  my  son,  she  wasn't 
at  all  anxious  abjut  you;  but  was  in  the  deepest  dis- 
tress at  being  forced  away  without  seeing  our  lady-kill- 
ing cousin  here,  in  fact,  we  had  some  (liili(;ulty  in 
persuading  her  to  go  without  paying  a  visit  to  his  room, 
to  give  him  a  parting  embrace;  but  our  combined  elo- 
quence prevailed  on  her  at  last." 

"  Why  did  you  not  allow  her?  I  should  have  been 
glad  to  see  my  little  friend  before  she  left,"  said  Cap- 
tain Disbrowe. 

"  You  were  dreaming  al)out  that  time,"  said  Jac- 
quetta, dryly.  "And  I  rather  fancy,  if  she  had  entered, 
she  would  have  found  an  empty  cage.  Had  you  not 
better  ride  over  to-'lay  and  return  her  visit  f 

"Very  likely  I  shall — if  I  can  ])revail  on  you  to  be 
my  body-guard  o!i  that  occasion.  Uemember,  you  told 
me  once  how  dangerous  it  was  for  me  to  ride  out  un- 
protected in  these  savage  regions." 

"  i\)or  child!  so  it  is!  Why,  there  is  no  telling  but 
some  tremendous  New  Jersey  female  might  spring  out 


■ii 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


l'J3 


avc  pre- 

cscortcd 
vidently 

:^Ir.   De 

cr  lady." 
Pery  girl 


ou!"  ox- 
liavc  the 

owe  \' 


n?" 


n-oticient 

,  a  sliame 

e  matter. 

le  wasn't 

Miest  dis- 

huly-kiU- 

unilty  in 

lis  room, 

incd  elo- 

ave  been 
laid  Cap- 
said  Jac- 
l  entered, 
I  you  not 

you  to  be 
you  told 
e  out  uii- 

"lling  but 
ipring  out 


1 


from  behind  a  tree,  and  unable,  like  all  the  rest  of  licr 
sex,  to  resist  the  irresistible  Captain  Disi)rowe,  bear  him 
oil'  in  his  lielpless  innocence  to —  Oli,  1  tremble  for 
you,  cousin  !  Tiiink  what  your  anxious  brother  would 
say  when  he  heard  of  it!'' 

''  Tiu;n,  to  ])reveiit  such  a  terrihc  climax,  will  you 
consent  to  accompany  and  take  care  of  me  ^" 

"  Well,  there  it  is.  1  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you, 
but  I  should  be  a  great  deal  more  sorry  to  disappoint 
myself,  (Should  be  pleased  to  oblli^e  you,  Cousin  Alf, 
but  you  perceive  1  can't." 

''  Why  not  f ' 

''AW'll,  I've  got  a  previous,  and  more  pleasant,  en- 
gagement." 

'*Can  you  not  break  it'^  Make  an  act  of  self-denial, 
and  come  with  me  I" 

"Oh,  i  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing — could  I, 
Jacinto  f ' 

Jacinto  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

"  Oh,  if  your  engagiMuent  is  with  him — "  began 
Disbrowe,  ccildly. 

"That's  it,  you  see  ;  it  would  be  impossible  to  break 
one  made  with  him.  And  he  has  pi'omised  to  teach  me 
iSpanisli,  and  we  have  got  already  as  tar  as  the  verb  to 
hoe:' 

"  Witli  such  a  teacher  it  cannot  have  taken  you  long 
to  reach  that  most  interesting  of  all  verbs,"  laughed  Mr. 
I)e  Yere. 

Disbrowe's  face  had  as>^umed  a  look  of  cold  hauteur, 
and  Jai-quetta's  eyes  sparkled  maliciously.  A  wicked 
reply  was  on  her  lips  ;  but  before  she  could  «peak,  a 
Budden  and  most  unexpected  sound  froze  the  words  she 
would  have  uttered. 

A  low,  soft  strain  of  music,  subdued  and  distant, 
yet  perfectly  clear  and  sweet,  fell  on  the  ears  of  all — 
that  musit!  Disbrowe  so  well  knew. 

In  an  instant  Jaccpietta  was  on  her  feet,  deathly 
white,  and  with  her  hands  clasped  convulsively  over 
lier  heart.     Mr.  De  Vero,  too,  arose  in  consternation ; 


I. 


!»:•,. 


w 

If' 

li:  i  I 


H' . 


m 


Ji' 


194 


PHIDE    AND     PASSION. 


and  even  Augusta,  wlio  had  hitherto  sat  silent  and 
Btony,  stood  np,  in  evident  agitation.  Ilad  a  grenade 
suddenly  exj)loded  at  their  feet,  it  could  not  have  pro- 
duced a  more  instantaneous  change  than  that  low, 
sweet,  plaintive  strain.  And  Disbrowe  saw — himself 
agitated,  though  he  could  scarcely  tell  why — that  the 
eyes  of  her  father  and  sister  turned  on  Jacquetta,  in 
mingled  terror  and  pity,  as  if  she  were  the  one  most 
concerned. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  and  then  it  arose 
again  in  a  long,  wailing  sort  of  cry,  dying  out  faint  and 
sad.  Without  a  word,  Jacquetta  started  to  leave  the 
room. 

"Jact^iietta,  my  dear  girl,  do  you  think  I  had  not 
better  acctompany  you  T'  said  Mr.  i)e  Yere,  turning  his 
agitated  face  toward  her. 

"JSTo,  no — 1  will  go  myself — remain  where  you  are," 
she  said,  in  a  voice  so  like  that  of  last  night,  that  her 
image  rose  again  before  Disbrowe,  as  he  had  seen  her 
then  standing,  white  and  stern,  like  a  devouring  llame, 
in  the  cold  moonlight. 

8he  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  Mr,  De  Yere  and 
Augusta  resumed  their  seats,  sstill  so  strangely  and 
strongly  agitated,  aii<l  listening  iiitently  to  catch  every 
eound.  Disbrowe  looked  resolutely  in  his  plate  to  avoid 
meeting  the  eye  of  Fraidv  ;  and  the  young  Spaniard 
looked  the  intense  wonder  he  did  not  venture  to 
speak. 

A  long  and  embarrassing  pause  ensued — broken  at 
last  by  Mr,  De  Yere,  who  asked,  with  an  apparent 
etfort,  some  trivial  question  of  Disbrowe.  The  young 
guardsman  responded;  and  seeing  the  evident  distress 
of  his  uncle,  strove  to  sustain  the  conversation,  in  which 
he  was  joined,  for  the  llrst  time,  by  Augusta,  who 
seemed  roused  from  her  petriiied  state  by  the  singular 
sound, 

it  was  a  relief  to  all  when  the  meal  was  over.  Mr. 
Do  Vere  and  his  daughter  innnediaicly  (piitted  the 
room,  Jacinto  sat  on  a  low  stool  and  be^an  drawing  the 


%m 


PRTDE    AND    PASSION. 


105 


i 


iilent  and 
a  grenade 
have  pro- 
that  low, 
— himself 
—that  the 
;quetta,  in 
i  one  most 

n  it  arose 
faint  and 
leave  the 

I  had  not 

urning  his 

3  you  are," 
t,  that  her 
d  seen  her 
I'ing  llame, 

Yere  and 

igely  and 
tch  every 
to  avoid 
Spaniard 
enture   to 

)roken  at 
apparent 
le  young 

t  distress 
in  which 

1st  a,   who 

3  singular 


It 


:■■  r* 


Mr. 

ttcd  the 
the 


ver. 


11 


awmix 


oars  of  Jacqnctta's  fierce  dog  through  his  fingers. 
Frank,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  an  uneasy 
look  in  his  eyes,  went  whistling  up  and  down  the 
room ;  and  Di-hrowe  stood  like  a  tall,  dark  statue  at 
one  of  the  windows — his  arms  folded  over  his  breast, 
and  an  unusual  look  of  dark  gloom  on  his  handsome 
lace.  Jacinto  and  Frank  cast  furtive  glances  toward 
liim,  and  at  last  tiie  latter  spoke  : 

"  I  say,  Cousin  Alfred." 

^'WelH"  was  the  brief  response. 

"What  a  siii<^nilar  all'air  that  ? — wasn't  it'^' 

"  What  r 

'•'Oh,  bother!  You  know  well  enough!  The 
music." 

There  was  no  response. 

"Never  knew  it  to  happen  before,  and  I've  been 
here  since  I  was  the  size  of  that."  And  Master  Frank 
held  his  hand  about  three  inches  from  the  ground. 
"  Very  odd  1 — excessively  so  !" 

"  Where  did  it  come  from  V  asked  Jacinto. 

"  Oh,  from  around  somewhere,"  said  Frank,  giving 
himself  an  unciusy  shrug.  "It  wasn't  anything,  you 
know  1" 

Jacinto  smilinl  slightly,  and  returned  to  caressing 
the  dog.  JJisbrowo  turned  round,  and  oven  the  sight 
of  the  young  8j)ain*ard  on  sucli  good  terms  with  her 
favorite  dog  brought  an  irritated  Hush  to  his  brow. 

"I  tiiink  (jf  I'iding  out  this  morning,"  he  said  to 
Frank.     "  What  do  you  say  to  coming  with  mef 

Frank,  who  had  his  own  notions  of  hospitality, 
hesitated  a  moment  and  irlanced  at  Jacinto.  JJisbrowe 
saw  the  look,  and  said,  haughtily  : 

"I  beg  your  pardon — I  forgot.  It  will  not  be 
necessary."     And  he  turned  to  leave. 

"  If  Jacinto  would  come  with  us,"  said  Frank, 
doubtfully. 

"Oh!  go  ^\ith  hiui.  Don't  mind  me;  1  will  do 
very  well,"  said  Jacinto  cordially. 

"  By  no  means,"   interposed   Disbrowe,   Imrricdly. 


7T^^ 


I'      "( 


106 


PWDE    AND    PASSIOy. 


vi 


III' 


1. 1    ri      4  I 


4  'l 


ft      :•!' 


!!* 


"  Frank  slmll  not  commit  such  a  breach  of  hospitality 
on  Hjy  account.     I  will  go  alone." 

Five  minutes  later,  and  he  was  in  the  saddle  and 
away.  Thinking  of  Jacquetta,  and  trying  in  vain  to 
solve  the  riddle  that  perplexed  him,  he  rode  rapidly  on, 
resolved  to  see  little  Orrie  before  he  returned. 

It  was  three  hours  nearly  before  the  inn  caTnc  in 
Bight ;  and  he  remembered,  with  a  strange  mingling  of 
feelings,  the  last  night  he  had  8])ent  there.  It  was  a 
gloomy-looking  place — almost  as  foreboding  in  aspect 
as  its  mistress. 

"■1  wonder  what  the  dear  old  lady  will  think  of  this 
morning  call  from  me  ?"  soliloquized  Disbrowe.  "  I 
fancy  she  wd II  be  surprised — rather!  If  anybody  had 
told  me  six  months  ago,  wdien  I  thought  it  a  bore  to 
trot  through  Kotten  Iwow  of  a  sunshiny  jnorning,  that 
I  would  take,  to-day,  a  gallop  of  over  thirty  miles,  and 
all  to  see  a  little  elf  from  goblin's  land — well,  to  draw 
it  mild,  I  should  say  it  was  a  confounded  lie  !  It  must 
be  something  in  the  air,  I  think  ;  or  some  of  the  dread- 
ful energy  of  the  natives  of  this  new  land  has  been,  by 
some  mysterious  means,  instilled  into  me.  I  wish  Col- 
umbus and  all  his  men  had  been  scalped  and  devoured 
by  the  Indians  the  day  he  was  so  othcious  as  to  begin 
discovering  continents,  any  way  !" 

And  with  this  second  charitable  wish  he  sprang 
from  his  horse,  and  had  raised  his  whip  to  knock  at  the 
door,  when  a  scream  of  delight  greeted  his  ear;  and 
the  next  instant  a  pair  of  arms  were  around  his  neck, 
and  little  Orrie  herself  was  kissing  and  clinging  to  him 
like  a  human  crab. 

"  Oh  !  J  knew  you'd  come  !  I  knew  you  w^onld ! 
And  I'm  so  glad!"  she  exclaimed,  intones  of  breath- 
less delight.  ''  I've  l)een  waiting  for  you  all  the  morn- 
ing !     AVhy  didn't  you  come  earlier  f 

"Well,  unless  I  had  started  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  I  don'.t  see  how  I  could  !" 

"  I  came  in  the  middle  of  the  night — did  you  know 


it  ?" 


111! 


Plil.^E    AND    PASSION. 


1»7 


ospitality 

uldle  and 
[1  vain  to 
ipidly  on, 

came  in 

ni^lini^  of 

It  was  a 

in  aspect 

ik  of  this 


)we.     "  I 
body  had 
a  1^0  re  to 
linii;,  that 
lile.s,  and 
,  to  draw 
It  must 
le  dread- 
been,  by 
^vish  Col- 
de von red 
to  begin 


e  sprang 
ck  at  the 


ear 


and 
his  neciv, 
g  to  him 

1  would ! 
f  breath- 
le  niorn- 

le  of  the 

ou  know 


"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Jack  told  yon.  I  wanted  to  see  yon, 
but  Miss  Jack  wouldn't  let  me." 

"  What  did  she  say  T' 

"AViiy,  that  you  were  asleep;  and  it  would  not  look 
well  to  i2:o  and  awaken  von.  And  then  she  said  she 
would  tell  you  to  come  and  see  me  to-day.  Were  you 
eorry  when  she  said  1  was  gone  f 

"  Very." 

Orrie  lowered  her  voice,  and  pointed  to  the  house. 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault,  you  know  ;  she  came  for  me, 
and  I  didn't  want  to  go.  lint  then,  it's  just  like  her — 
she's  a  horrid  ugly  old  thing,  every  way  you  can  fix  it !" 

"  You  little  virago  !  did  she  nuike  you  walk  ?" 

"  Walkf  said  Orrie,  breaking  into  her  short,  shrill 
laugh.  "  I  guess  not !  We  rid  a  horseback — on  old 
Dobbin,  you  know.     Are  you  going  in  '^" 

"No,  I  think  not.  I  am  not  particularly  anxious  to 
Bee  the  dear  old  soul !     I  came  to  see  you." 

"Did  you? — that's  so  nice!  And  oh!  I  do  love 
you  better  tlian  anybudy  else  in  the  world  !"  cried 
Orrie,  with  another  of  her  impulsive  hugs  and  kisses. 

"Thank  you.  I'm  very  much  obliged  ;  but  at  the 
Game  time  I  had  rather  not  be  strangled  outright  with 
these  dreadful  little  arms  of  yours.  Did  she  beat  you 
when  she  got  you  home?" 

"No  ;  Old  Nick  was  here,  and  he  wouldn't  let  her 
— only  for  him,  I  guess  I'd  have  caught  it !"  said  Orrie, 
with  a  chuckle. 

"  Ah  !  is  he  there  now  ?" 

"No;  he,  and  Kit,  and  Blaise  went  away  this 
morning.  Do  you  know,"  said  Orrie,  lowering  her 
voice  again,  "  they  were  talking  about  you  when  I 
arrived  i" 

"  Were  they  ?     What  did  they  say  !" 

"  Well,  you  know,  I  couldn't  hear  very  well — 
I  wasn't  in  the  room,  but  listening  at  the  door." 

"  Oh  I  a  very  commendable  practice,  which  you 
ought  to  cultivate  whilst  you  are  young,  as  I  fancy  you 


i 


198 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


»f 


Mil- 


have  a  talent  that  wa}-.  And  they  were  taking  my 
name  in  vain — were  they  V 

"Thev  were  tnlkinir  ahout  von!*'  paid  Orrie,  lookinnr 
a  htth;  puzzled  ;  for  one-half  c^f  the  young  gentleman's 
S])eeehes  was  Greek  to  her,  f>r  thereabouts;  "and 
Captain  Kick  said  lie  would  kill  you,  if  he  was  to 
tiwiui^  Tor  it  the  next  moment.  AVhat  did  he  mean  by 
that  r' 

"Xever  mind!  You  will  iind  out,  probably,  by 
experienee,  one  of  these  days,  if  you  live  nmcli  longer 
with  this  amiable  old  lady  of  yours.  What  else  did 
they  say  V 

"  Why,  old  Grizzle  lav:;^hed  at  him,  and  said  she 
despised  his  notions  of  revenge.  That  killing  M-as  no 
good — or  something  like  that;  and  that  she  knew  a 
way  to  fix  you  off  a  thousand  times  worse  !"' 

"  Dear  old  soul !"  said  Disbrowe,  apostrophizing  her 
in  a  low  voice.  "■  What  a  blessed  old  lady  she  is,  to  be 
sure !" 

''  Then  I  heard  Old  Nick  ask  her  how ;  and  she 
said  to  come  to-morrow  night — that's  to-night,  you 
know,"  said  Orrie — "  and  she  would  tell  him.  And  he 
wanted  her  to  tell  him  then ;  and  she  got  cross,  and 
said  she  would  not.  And  I  heard  her  tell  him  another 
thing,  too !"  added  the  little  one,  suddenly — "  some- 
thini!:  about  Miss  Jack." 

"  You  did,  eh  ?     What  was  it,  magpie  ?" 

"  Why,  that  she  was  going  to  kill  two  birds  with 
one  stone — you  and  her.  So  you  and  Miss  Jack  had 
better  look  out  !" 

"Thank  you.  What  particular  virtue  is  there  in 
looking  out  'f ' 

"Kow,  don't  be  funny,"  said  Orrie,  impatiently. 
"  I  should  think  you  ought  to  be  scared  to  death.  I 
should,  I  know." 

"  Well,  1  am,  too.     What  else  did  you  hear?" 

"  Well — nothing  else,"  said  Orrie,  reluctantly.  "  Old 
Grizzle  jerked  the  door  open  before  I  knew  it,  and 


i( 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


190 


ing  my 


lookiiirir 
'leinan's 
;  "  and 
3  was  to 
[lean  by 

l^ly,  by 
1  longer 
else  did 

;aid  slie 
was  no 
knew  a 

ing  lier 
s,  to  bo 

md  she 
it,  you 
A.nd  he 
ss,  and 
mother 
sonie- 


s  with 
k  had 

ere  in 

iently. 
th.     I 


"Old 

t,  and 


M 


4! 


canirht  me  tlierc,  and  boxed  my  ears  and  sent  me  to 
bed.     And  that's  all/' 

"  And  enough  too,  I  tliink.  T  wisli  yon  could  twist 
yourself  into  some  ('orner  and  liear  what  precious  .ev- 
elations  tliey  will  make  to-night." 

"Eh;"  said  Orrie. 

"  Oh,  nothing  !  If  you  hear  anything  more,  will  you 
let  me  know  !•" 

"Well,  it's  such  a  long  piece  to  go  to  Fontelle," 
said  Orrie,  hesitatingly.  "  And  old  Grizzle  does  get 
so  mad — though  I  don't  care  for  that  nuich — that — 

"  Oh  !  1  do  not  wish  you  to  travel  to  Fontelle,  my 
dear  child,"  said  Ca})tain  Disbrowe,  smiling  at  her 
troubled  little  face.  "  Perhaps  I  may  ride  over  again 
to-morrow  and  see  you." 

"  Will  you  ?  Oh,  how  nice  !  And  ain't  Fontelle  a 
beautiful  place,  with  such  lovely  big  rooms,  and  nice 
pictures,  and  carpets,  and  splendid  soft  beds?  Oh!  I 
wish  I  lived  there!'  said  Orrie,  with  spirkling  eyes. 

"  U]ion  my  honor  I  wish  you  did,  Firclly  !  Pei'haps 
you  may  some  day.     Shall  1  tell  you  how  ^" 

"  Yes!''  said  Orrie,  eagerly. 

*'Then  make  Frank  fall  in  love  with  you,  and  get 
married  to  him  !"  laughed  Disbrowe. 

Orrie  put  her  iini>:er  on  her  hp,  perched  her  head 
on  one  side,  bird  fashion,  and  looked  reflective. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  C  she  said,  searchingly. 

"  Could  what  ?''  said  Disbrowe. 

"  Go  to  live  there  if  I  got  married  to  him  ?"  said 
Orrie. 

Disbrowe  laughed  and  nodded, 

"Then  I  will!"  said  Orrie,  decidedly. 

"  Will  marry  him  ?"  said  Disbrowe,  still  laughing. 

"  Yes !"  said  Orrie,  soberly  ;  "  I  shall.  I'll  ask  him 
about  it  the  next  time  I  see  him.     Will  you  live  there, 

too  r 

"  No ;  I  am  afraid  not.     I  must  go  home  shortly." 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?" 

"  Oh  I  away  over  the  sea — far  away." 


1100 


PRIDE    AND    PASSION. 


I; 


OiTic'.-J  conntenancc  fell. 

"  I  r^lian't  like  it,  then.  I  had  rather  go  with  you.. 
Coulihrt  I  marry  yon,  and  ujo  there  too  V 

\)v\)V()\K(.i  lauL;'hcd  heartily. 

"What  arc  y(»u  laughing  at  r'  said  Orrie,  sharply. 
"I  don't  see  anything  to  langh  at.  Perhaps  you  are 
laughing  at  nie !''  she  exclaimed,  as  the  thought  struck 
her  for  the  lirst  time. 

"  Laughing  at  you  ?"  said  Dishrowe,  composing  his 
countenance.  "  I  hope  I  have  l)etter  manners.  No, 
indeed,  ]\[iss  Orrie." 

"Well,  will  you  marry  me,  though?"  said  Orrie, 
curiously. 

"It's  very  likely  I  shall,"  said  Dishrowe,  maintain- 
ing his  gi'avity  by  an  eifort,  "  though  I  must  refer  you 
to  papa !  Oh  !  here  comes  the  old  Witch  of  Endor  iier- 
Belt.     Good-bye,  Orrie.     Fll  think  of  your  proj)osal." 

And  kissing  the  small  face,  upturned  in  all  gravity 
for  that  pleasant  operation,  he  set  her  down,  sprang  ou 
Saladin,  and  galloped  off  just  as  old  Grizzle,  in  angry 
astonishment,  came  to  the  door. 

Once  out  of  sight,  Dishrowe  laughed  until  he  could 
laugh  no  longer,  over  Orrie's  unoMpected  ])roposal,  and 
the  solemn  countenance  with  which  she  niade  it.  Onco 
or  twice  more  unpleasant  thoughts  obtruded  them- 
selves; but  with  his  hni^py,  careless  nature  he  set  them 
aside,  and  gallo])ed  back  in  far  better  spirits  and  appe- 
tite than  when  he  had  left. 

It  was  some  time  in  ^^hc  afternoon  when  he  reached 
Fontelle.  Wishing  to  see  his  uncle  for  a  moment,  to 
discover  if  \\v:  had  any  message  to  send  to  Lord  Earne- 
cliife,  to  whom  ho  was  about  to  write,  he  in(piired  after 
luncheon  where  he  was,  and  learned  from  Tribulation 
*  that  he  was  in  the  Ubrary,  according  to  his  custom  iu 
the  afternoon. 

The  library  was  at  the  end  of  the  south  hall ;  and  to 
reach  it  he  had  to  pass  the  room  of  Jacquetta,  and  Ja- 
cinto, which  were  opposite  to  each  other.     Thinking  of 


PRIDE    AND    DASSTON. 


201 


with 


you. 


S  sliarply. 
ps  joii  Hj-e 
i,^lit  struck 

posing  liis 
lers.     Ko, 

aid  Orrie, 

maintain- 
refer  you 
!ndor  jier- 
oposal." 
11  i^ravifcy 
ipranir  oq 

iu   angry 

lie  con  Id 
osal,  and 
t.  Onco 
I  tlieni- 
set  them 
id  appe- 


readied 
nont,  to 
Earnu- 
1  after 
)iilation 
atom  iu 


her  with  returning  tenderness,  he  started  on  his  errand, 
humming  a  verse  of  the  old  song : 

**I  might  liave  harl  a  king's  daughter, 
Far,. far,  beyonl  the  sea; 
I  niiglit  have  liad  a  king's  daughter, 
ilad  it  not  been  for  love  of  thee." 

.  The  door  of  Jacinto's  room  lay  open  as  he  passed, 
and  something  caught  liis  eye,  and  he  panscd. 

Well  he  migiit !  Well  might  lie  stand  transfixed, 
while  the  blood  flushed  in  a  crimson  tide  for  one  in- 
stant to  ills  very  temples,  and  then  retreated,  leaving 
him  white  even  to  his  li]>s. 

On  a  sofa  indolently  reclined  Jacinto — his  head  rest- 
ing on  one  hand,  the  other  toying  with  the  silken  curls 
of  Jacquetta,  while  ho  gazed  up  in  her  face  with  eyes 
full  of  love  and  joy.  She  bent  above  him  ;  lier  arms 
around  him  as  she  knelt  beside  his  couch,  talking  in 
softest  whispers;  and  at  last,  as  he  stood  there,  he  saw 
her  stoop  down  and  press  her  lips  warmly  to  his. 

The  sight  maddened  him.  What  he  would  Jjave 
said — what  he  would  have  done  in  his  first  fierce  out- 
burst of  rage  and  jealousy,  it  would  be  hard  to  say  ; 
but  both  had  heard  liim,  and  both  were  on  their  feet  in 
a  moment.  Face,  and  neck,  and  brow  of  Jacquetta 
grew  crimson  for  an  instant — the  next  it  vanished  ;  and 
with  a  look  on  her  face  he  had  never  seen  there  before, 
she  walked  over  and  coufrouted  him. 

9* 


fj 


and  to 
md  Ja- 
wing of 


J 


203 


A    QUEEN    UNCROWNED, 


CHAPTER  XV; 


A  QUEEN  UNCROWNED. 


\^  ■■ 


1% 


4*.f»'vi: 


'ijii' 


'ii. 


**I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 
Which  stiys  I  must  not  stay  ; 
I  SCO  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 
Which  beckons  me  away." 

HERE  was  a  pause,  during  which  they  stood 
gazing  at  each  other,  one  in  scorn  and  the 
other  in  defiance.  Jacinto  stood  with  his 
face  averted — silent  too.  J acquetta  W2.S the 
lirst  to  s|)eak. 

"  Well,  sir,"  she  said  imperiously. 

He  bowed  in  mock  humility. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  j\Us8  Jac(pietta.  I  was  on  my 
way  to  the  1  i  brary  to  see  my  uncle,  and  passing  here — " 

"  You  stoppeil  to  look  in." 

"■Not  intentionally.  The  door  being  open,  I  gave 
a  passing  jj^lance  in,  naturally  ;  not  expecting  the 
interesting  little  tableau  vivant  tha""  met  my  eye.  Ex- 
cuse mo  tor  interrupting  it ;  i  would  not  have  done  so 
for  the  world." 

bhe  grew  crimson  at  the  insinuation  his  tone  con- 
veyed. 

''  Insolent !     What  do  you  mean,  sir  V^ 

*'  Mean !  Oh,  nothing,  my  dear  cousin !  JJut  would  you 
mind  my  advising  you  to  shut  the  door  in  future,  when 
you  indulge  in  such  little  endearments^  They  are  very 
natural  and  harmless,  no  doubt,  but  some  ot  the  serv- 
ants may  ciumce  to  see  you ;  and  servants  wiU  taiiv, 
you  know  ^" 

"  Our  servants  will  not ;    our  guests  appear  to  be 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


203 


sy  stood 
and  the 
vitli  his 
L  was  the 


3  on  vcij 
liere — " 


1  gave 
ng  tlie 
B.  Ex- 
ion  e  so 


le  con- 


II  Id  you 
),  when 
re  vxry 
le  serv- 

l    tlUlC, 

to  be 


i 


more  given  to  eavesdropping  than  they  are.  Be  assured, 
sir,  we  shall  take  the  precaution  of  shutting  the  door, 
in  future.     Have  you  anything  else  to  advise  f 

"  Nothing,"  said  Disbrowe,  pale  with  passion  and 
iealonsv,  "but  that  midniii^ht  interviews  \\'it!i  old  hai-'S, 
and  afternoon  interviews  with  young  Spaniards,  should 
both  be  more  discreetly  managed,  lest  Miss  J  acq  net  ta 
De  Vere  lind  herself  in  trouble,  some  day." 

"Miss  Jacquetta  De  Vere  is  very  much  obliged  to 
you,  but  is  quite  capable  of  taking  care  of  herself. 
Anything  else,  my  worthy  cousin  f ' 

"  JS'othing  else.     Good  afternoon,  Miss  De  Vere." 

"  One  moment !  Did  you  dream  this  pleasant  little 
scene  was  to  happen'^"  said  Jacquetta  with  a  curious 
smile. 

"  Some  faint  vision  like  it  may  have  passed  through 
my  mind,  of  late,  but  nothing  quite  so  enchanting  as 
the  reality.  1  see,  now,  why  i  was  refused.  Allow 
me  to  take  tl  o  present  opportunity  of  congratulating 
you  on  your  gcod  fortune,  lest  another  should  not  occur, 
speedily." 

"  VVhere  arc  you  going  f 

"To  the  library,  just  at  present." 

"  Is  papa  there  C 

^''  My  uncle  is  there — yes,"  said  Disbrowe,  with  em- 
phasis. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  f '  she  demanded,  with  a 
sharp  liasli  of  her  eye. 

"JN'othing.  Part  of  my  dream  merely  crossed  mv 
mmd." 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  she  would  have  pierced  hnn 
with  her  sharp,  angry  eyes ;  but  liis  face  wore  no  ex- 
pression, save  (jne  of  contemptuous  sai'casm.  It  stung 
her  to  tlie(juick  ;  and  again  her  j)ale  face  Hushed,  and 
her  eye  blazed  with  a  dangei-ous  light. 

"  1  presume   you  are   go^'^^  to  tell  him  what  you 
have  seen  ^" 
}Je  bowed. 
"Miss  Jacquetta  is  at  libeity  to  construe  my  con- 


204 


A     Q  UEEN    Uy  GR  0  WNED. 


i-li  I 


•i  ■  'i  ■ 


duct  as  she  pleases.  At  the  same  time,  I  would  humbly 
insiauate  1  am  neither  au  eavesdropper  nor  a  tale- 
bearer." 

"I  confess,  it  looks  like  it,"  she  said,  with  a  curling 
lip.  "  One  thing  is  certain  ;  your  conduct,  since  you 
came  here,  has  been  very  far  removed  from  that  of  a 
gentleman." 

"  Miss  Do  Yere  !"  he  said  haughtily. 

"  LLow  has  it  been  ?"  she  broke  out,  licrcely.  "  AYas 
it  the  part  of  u  gentleman,  in  the  first  place,  after  re- 
ceiving the  hospitality  of  this  house,  to  insult  the 
daugiiter  of  your  liost  by  an  oiler  of  the  love  long  ago 
pledged  to  auother  i  Was  it  the  part  of  a  gentleman  to 
follow  me  into  a  quarter  of  this  house  you  knew  was 
forbidden,  to  see,  and  hear,  and  spy  on  my  actions  'i 
Was  it  the  part  of  a  gentleman,  I  say,  to  stop  looking 
in  doors  and  at  scenes  you  had  no  business  to  look  at — 
at  things  never  meant  for  your  eye  V 

"  1  can  believe  that,  Miss  Jaccpietta,"  he  said,  in  scorn- 
ful anger  ;  "  and  1  might  retort,  by  saying  :  Was  it  tho 
part  of  a  lady  to  become  an  actor  in  such  forbidden 
scenes — a  De  Yere  stooping  to  love  a  nameless  foreign 
adventurer'^     i  thouixht  better  tiiinics  ot"  my  cousin," 

"  Who  cares  what  you  thought,  sir  !"  she  said,  with 
a  passionate  stamp  of  her  foot.  '*  I  will  love  whom  1 
please,  do  what  i  please,  stoop  to  what  1  please,  and 
defy  you  to  your  ta(;e." 

"Allow  me  to  claim  the  same  privilege,  then." 

"  You  to  come  here  to  dictate  to  me !"  continued  Jac- 
qnetta,  conqiletely  overcome  by  passion,  and  pacing 
fiercely  u])  and  tlown,  after  her  custom  when  excited. 
"You,  a  coni[)lele  stranger,  who,  because  your  nu^ther 
chanced  to  bear  our  name,  forsooth,  think  yourself 
privileged  to  rule  lord  and  master  of  ^ontelle  liall  and 
Jacquetta  De  V'^ere.  Who  are  }ou,  sir^  What  are  you, 
that  vou  should  dare  to  talk  like  this  to  me?" 

"  Verily,  a  man  of  little  account,"  said  Disbrowe, 
with  a  cold,  calm  smile,  that  fairly  maddened  her,  "and 
with  uo  authority  either  iu  Fonteile  or  over  Miss  Jack 


^'^. 


■#^ 


A     QUE  EN    UNCROWNED. 


20j 


I  humbly 
r  a   tale- 


a  curling 
iiice  you 
hat  of  a 


r. 


u 


Was 
after  re- 
isiilt  tlie 
ong  ago 
eman  to 
new  was 
actions  ? 
looking 
3ok  at — • 


in  scorn- 
as  it  the 
rbiddea 
foreign 
usin," 
id,  with 
vhoni  I 
and 


LS' 


?) 


n.' 

led  Jac- 

pacing 

3  X  cited. 

nic^ther 

ourself 

all  and 

re  you, 

>browe, 
r,  "and 
SB  Jack 


De  Verc  ;  but  as  slie  bears  my  family  name,  and  claims 
kindred  with  me,  I  feel  a  friendly  interest  in  her  and 
her  good  rcpulationr 

If  a  bullet  had  struck  her,  she  could  not  have  paused 
more  suddwnly  in  her  passionate  tread,  nor  turned  of  a 
more  livid  whiteness.  Again,  she  clasped  both  hands 
over  her  heart,  as  he  had  seen  her  do  before,  and  reeled 
as  if  she  had  got  a  blow. 

"  She  is  fainting  !"  cried  Jacinto,  springing  forward 
in  terror. 

Shocked  and  terrified  at  the  effect  of  his  words, 
Bpokeu  without  thought  in  the  white  heat  of  his  pas- 
sion, Disbrowe  advanced  ;  and  alarmed,  lest  she  were 
really  fainting,  he  would  have  caught  her;  but,  with  a 
great  cry,  she  held  out  her  arms  to  keep  him  off. 

''Go!  go!  Leave  me!"  she  cried,  huskily,  point- 
ing wiiii  one  llickering  linger  to  the  door. 

"  My  dearest  cousin !"  he  said,  in  sorrow  and  re- 
morse. "  what  have  I  said  ?  Can  you  ever  forgive 
mer' 

"  Leave  me !"  she  exclaimed,  passionately. 

"  Forget  my  words,  dear  Jaccpetta ;  forget  what  I 
said." 

"  Never  !  so  help  me  Heaven  !"  she  fiercely  cried. 
"  Go,  and  never  come  back  !  1  never  want  to  look  on 
your  face  again !" 

There  was  no  resisting  that  tone !  Sorrowfully,  he 
turned  away,  casting  one  last  look  behind  liim — a' look 
he  never  forgot  till  his  dying  day. 

Ue  saw  her  fling  herself  on  the  sofa,  her  hands  still 
tightly  clasped  on  her  breast,  her  face  buried  in  the  pil- 
lows. He  heard  a  passionate,  anguished  cry  :  "  O  my 
heart !  my  heart !  "  And  then  the  reproachful  eyes  of 
Jacinto  were  raised  to  his ;  the  door  was  closed,  and 
the  young,  fearless  mountain-queen  lay  uncrowned  and 
unthroned,  unsceptred  and  disgraced,  with  the  arrow 
he  liad  sped  quivering  in  her  heart. 

Ho  had  to  stand  for  some  moments  himself  to 
regaia  his  calmness  before  he  could  knock  at  the  library 


t*i 


30o 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


r.  . !, 


r  '■; 


Ir'f!! 


f-i 


.1*1' 


irn 


cleor.  He  turacd  the  handle,  in  answer  to  his  uncle's 
"  Conic  in,"  and  stood  before  him  with  his  customary 
composure  ;  Ijnt  with  a  face  paler  and  sterner  than  that 
wortiiy  old  gentleman  had  ever  seen  him  wear  before. 

''  My  dear  boy,"  he  exclaimed,  pushing  up  his  spec- 
tacles, "  what  is  the  matter  V 

"Nothing,"  said  Disbrowe,  taking  a  chair — "at 
least,  nothing  you  need  disturb  yourself  about.  I  have 
come  to  thaidc  you  for  the  pleasant  hours  I  have  spent 
beneath  your  roof,  and  to  announce  my  departure." 

"  Your  what  V  exclaimed  Mr.  De  Vere,  in  con- 
sternation. 

Disl)rowe  smiled. 

"  My  departure.     I  leave  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  I  God  bless  us !"  said  Mr.  De  Yere, 
pushing  back  his  chair,  and  looking  at  him.  "Have 
you  gone  crazy  V 

"  No,  sir,  I  hope  not." 

"  Then  what  has  put  this  ab^^urd  notion  into  your 
head  ?  And  so  suddenly,  too !  Why,  last  night,  when 
you  told  me  you  were  going  to  write  to  Earnecliffe  to- 
day, you  had  no  idea — not  the  remotest — of  leaving." 

Disbrowe  colored. 

"  Circumstances  alter  cases, 
mind  since  then." 

"  Ah,  pooh  !     I  won't  hear 
away   to-morrow,   indeed  1     Oh, 

the  notion  is  absurd,"  said  Mr.  De  Vere,  taking  a  huge 
pinch  of  snuff,  and  blowing  his  nose  furiously. 

"My  dear  uncle,  if  you  only  knew — " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  and,  what's  more,  I  don't 
want  to  know.  I  won't  hear  of  such  a  thing !  I  won't, 
positively  !     What  will  the  girls  say?" 

Disbrowe  smiled  bitterly. 

"They  will  hardly  regret  my  departure,  I  fancy." 

"  Yes,  they  \vill,  too ;  you  must  not  fancy  any  such 
thing.  Grusty's  cold  and  utulcmonstrative,  I  know ; 
and  you  have  seen  what  a  glamour  that  infern.d  old 
hag  has  cast  over  her.     But  she  likes  you  none  the 


I  have  changed  my 


it — I  won't! 
pooh  !   pooh !    pooh ! 


Going 


1 :1     » I 


tiis  uncle's 
3ii8toruary 
than  tliat 
r  before. 
)  bis  spec- 
hair — "  at 
;.  I  have 
ave  spent 
ture." 
J  in  con- 


De  Yere, 
"Have 


into  your 
4it,  when 
Bcliffe  to- 
having." 

aged  my 

!     Going 

!    pooli ! 

g  a  huge 


I  don't 
I  won't, 


fancy." 
any  such 
[  know; 
rn<il  old 
lone  the 


* 


A     Q  HE  Elf     UNCR  0  WNED. 


207 


less.  And  Jack's  wild  and  saucy.  But  it's  her  way ; 
and  I'm  sure  she  will  be  outrageous  when  she  learns  it. 
Oh,  yon  mustn't  think  of  going  at  all.  It  won't  do, 
you  see." 

"  Unfortunately,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  not  a  matter  of 
thought.     I  must  go." 

"■  Nonsense,  you  can  stay  if  you  like.  Who  is  to 
make  you  ?     Who  is  to  say  must  to  you  ?" 

^'Ah!    'thereby   hangs   a   tale!'"   said   Disbrowe, 
smiling  slightly.      "There   is   one   o'er  the   water  a' 
sighin'  for  me!" 

''  Oh,  I  see !"  said  Mr.  De  Vere,  a  light  breaking 
in  on  him.  "There  is,  as  they  say  of  the  duels,  'a 
Lidy  in  the  case.'" 

Disbrowe  bowed  ;  and  a  faint  red  tinged  his  cheek. 

"  Indeed  !  who  is  she,  Alfred  ?" 

"Miss  Norma  Macdonald.  You  remember  the 
Macdonalds  of  Castle  liiil,  Inverness.  Her  father  is  of 
that  ilk." 

"  1  knew  them — yes.  There  were  two  brothers — 
Angus  and  llandall.  And  a  wild  scapegrace  Kandall 
was — 'inordinately  fond  of  '  women  and  wine.'  Which 
is  her  father^" 

"  llandall  Macdonald.  lie  is  a  reformed  character 
now.  His  elder  brother  died,  and  all  the  property  fell 
to  him.  He  was  abroad  at  the  time,  and  only  returned 
upon  the  death  of  his  brother — a  widower,  then,  with 
his  only  daughter,  at  the  time  five  years  old." 

"Does  he  live  at  Castle  Hill  f' 

"  No ;  he  bought  a  magnihcent  estate  in  Derby- 
shire, and  has  lived  there  ever  since  I  can  remember. 
I  fancy  he  found  the  old  manor  rather  dull  and  gloomy, 
and  so  preferred  England." 

"  Aud  so  you  are  engaujed  to  be  married  to  her." 

'-  ^es,  si]',  I  believe  1  am,"  said  Disbrowe,  care- 
lessly. 

"  Is  she  handsome  ?" 

"More — she  is  beautiful." 

"  Of  course.     Was  there  ever  a  lover  thouerht  other- 


lii 


t 


208 


A     QUE  Elf     UNCROWNED. 


•'.'I. 


wise  t  Well,  she  comes  of  a  good  fivmily.  Kone  bet- 
ter—good, old  Scotch  blood  llowing  in  her  vaiiis.  Who 
was  her  mother"^" 

"  Can't  say.  A  foreign  lady,  I  believe.  Indeed,  if 
I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  she  was  an  American.  Mr. 
Macdonald,  1  know,  was  in  America  for  some  time,  and, 
from  several  slight  things,  I  more  than  once  suspect 
she  was  a  native  of  this  new  country.  IJo  never  al- 
luded to  the  subject  himself.  I  never  heard  him  speak 
of  his  wife  in  my  life." 

"Humph!  that's  odd.  Perhaps — but  no  matter. 
When  are  you  to  be  married?" 

"  When  Miss  Macdonald  attains  lier  nineteenth 
bir'ili-day." 

"  And  when  will  that  blessed  time  be?" 

"  Sometime  next  November,  I  believe." 

"You  helieve!  You're  a  pretty  lover!  Of  course, 
you  are  all  iiupatience  till  the  time  comes !" 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  dry  answer. 

Mr.  De  Vere  looked  at  him  with  a  queer  smile. 

"  Is  she  rich  ?" 

"  Very — worth  ten  thousand  a  year." 

"  Which,  with  the  barony  of  Guilford,  and  the  earl- 
dom of  Earneclilfe,  will  be  nearer  a  hundred  thousand. 
Do  you  know  3'ou  will  be  one  of  the  richest  peers  in 
England  one  of  these  days,  Alfred  V 

"  I  need  it.     I  am  poor  enough  tiow." 

"  I  suppose  Earneclilfe  gives  ^ou  a  liberal  allow- 
ance." 

"  Does  he  ?  Something  like  two  thousand  a  year  ; 
and  what  is  that  to  me — and  witii  the  set  I  move  among, 
too  ?"  said  Disbrowe,  contemptuously. 

"Many  a  man  could  subsist  pretty  easily  on  that 
sum,"  said  his  uncle,  dryly.  "  My  yearly  income  does 
not  exceed  it." 

Disbrowe  stared. 

"  My  dear  uncle,  I  thought  you  were  rich." 

"  Well,  I  am,  too — as  rich  as  I  want  to  be." 


ll  M 


A     qui: EN    UNCROWNED. 


209 


None  l)et- 
iiis.    Who 

Indeed,  if 
can.  Mr. 
time,  and, 
ce  suspect 
never  al- 
liini  speak 

o  matter. 

ineteentli 


)f  course, 

paile. 

the  earl- 

housand. 

peers  in 

al  allow- 

a  year ; 
3  among, 

on  that 
nie  doea 


Captain  Disbrowe  felt  a  strong  inclination  to 
whistle  ;  hut  he  didn't, 

"Mv  dear  l)oy,  w\\\  yon  let  your  old  uncle  ask  you  a 
question,  without  being  oU'ended  f 

"  Certainly,  sir.     Ask  as  many  as  yon  please." 

"Then,  was  it  you  or  Lord  Earnecliile  brought 
about  this  engagement  V^ 

"Earnecliile." 

"  Ah  !  indeed  !     Do  you  love  her,  Alfred?" 

"  JSo,  j^ir !"  said  the  young  man,  coldly. 

"  My  dear  boy  !" 

"  My  dear  uncle  !" 

And  Disbiowe  positively  laughed  in  his  uncle's 
grave  face. 

"But,  really,  this  is — O  Alfred  !  this  marrying 
without  love  is  a  wretched  piece  of  business  I  1  do  not 
approve  of  it  at  all." 

"  My  dear  uncle,  who  would  expect  to  find  you 
sentimental  ?" 

"  Sentimental !"  said  Mr.  De  Yere,  almost  angrily. 
"I  am  not  sentimental.     Does  she  love  you'^" 

An  expression  almost  like  remorse  crept  over  the 
handsome  young  face. 

"  I  think  so — 1  believe  so !  It  is  more  than  I  de- 
serve from  her  1" 

"  Poor  girl !     You  will  be  good  to  her,  Alfred  ?" 

"  I  will  try  to  be,  sir." 

"  I  do  not  like  these  marriages  de  cotwenance — 
they  are  obsolete  in  tins  ai^e  of  improvement.  I 
wonder  you  should  consent  to  such  an  arrangement, 
Alfred." 

"  My  dear  sir,  what  would  you  have  ?  I  can't  do 
better.  She  is  everything  I  can  desire.  I  like  her 
well  enough  ;  she  loves  me,  with  all  my  faults ;  and  we 
will  get  along  very  well  together." 

"Did  you  ever  love  any  one,  Alfred?" 

"It  is  late  to  ask  that  question.  Of  course,  like 
every  other  young  man,  I  have  been  in  love  scores  of 


.;iKi- 


210 


A     Q  VEEN    Uy  Cli  0  WNED. 


t  ,'   ' 


bki 


'*:    ^    ,i  f 


T  I  i 


l,^i! 


it'rT 


I    i: 


:  'i 


times.  It  is  like  the  measles  and  wliooping-coiigli — 
we  mnst  sullcr  throiii:;]!  sik;1i  attneks." 

"  Jf  you  like  no  father  woman  better  than  licr,  you 
may  do  well  enoui,di ;  Imt  if — do  you  like  any  one 
better,  my  dear  boy  V 

Uisbrowc  was  silent ;  but  his  cheek  Hushed. 

"'Silence  gives  consent.'  Will  you  not  tell  your 
old  uncle,  Alfred  V 

"  You  had  better  not  ask  that  question,  sir." 

"I  am  your  friend,  Disbrowe." 

"i  know  it,  sir;  and  for  that  reason  1  would  DOt 
tell  you." 

'"^Alfred!" 

The  young  man  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  began 
pacing  violently  up  and  down  the  room.  Mr.  De  Yere 
looked  at  him  in  something  like  dismay. 

"  Lord  bless  me !    It  can't  be  possible,  you  know  !" 

''AVhat,  sir^^" 

"  That  you  have  gone  and  fallen  in  love  with — ^" 

"  Weir^"  said  Disbrowe,  almost  liercely. 

"  Augusta  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  De  Vere. 

"No,  sir!"  said  Disbrowe.  "Make  your  mind 
cas}''  on  that  ])oint.  My  cousin  Augusta  is  up  among 
the  stars — too  high  above  my  reach.  It  happens  to  be 
Bome  one  nearer  the  earth," 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  De  Vere,  looking  relieved.  "I 
thought,  by  your  manner,  it  was  some  one  here;  and, 
as  Angusta  is  the  only  one — " 

"  The  only  one !  You  forget  you  have  another 
daughter!" 

"  What !  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed  his  uncle,  in 
perfect  horror.     "It's  not  possible  that  you  love — " 

"  Jucquetta  Do  Vere  !  Yes,  sir  ;  1  ilo,  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul !"  tiercely,  passionately  excliiimed  Dis- 
browe. 

Ml*.  De  Yere  fell  back,  perfectly  speechless,  in  his 
chair. 

"  Yes,  I  love  her  so  well  that  I  would  marry  her  to- 
morrow, if  1  could !" 


■cough — 

her,  you 
any  one 


tell  your 


)j 


ould  not 


another 

mcle,  in 
e— " 
1  all  my 
led  l)is- 

3,  in  his 

T  her  to- 


id  began 
De  Vere 

]''■ 

know !" 

1 

ith    " 

ur  mind 

■  -id 

1 

p  among 
ins  to  be 

led.     "I 
re;  and, 

A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


211 


"  Mv  dcnr  Alfred,  this  is — this  is — horrible !" 
gasped  Mr.  De  Vere. 

*'  What !  is  it  such  an  unheard-of  thing,  that  a  man 
being  engaged  to  one,  loves  auotlier  ?" 

"No;  it's  not  that.  You  do  not  know.  Good 
lieavens  !  if  you  only  did  I"  cried  Mr.  De  Vere,  per- 
fectly aghast. 

"  Know  what,  sir  f 

"Oh,  I  ciiu't  tell  you— I  can't  tell  you  !  My  dmr 
bey,  this  is  the  most  unheard  of — the  most  shocking — 
why,  I  thoiighi  you  coukhi't  endure  one  another — you 
were  always  quarreling." 

"That  could  not  prevent  me  from  loving  her." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Did  ever  anybody  hear  anything 
like  this!  AVHiy,  it's  dreadful — it's  monstrous — it's — 
it's — I'm  astounded^  Captain  Disbrowe!  Love  Jac- 
quetta!     Why,  it's  perfectly  awful  I'' 

Disbrowe  slopped,  and  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"1  never  heard  the  like — I  never  did — in  all  my 
life!  I  couldn't  have  helieved  such  a  thing!"  went  on 
Mr.  De  Veie,  in  a  perfect  ecstacy  of  dismay. 

"  Uncle,  there  is  some  mystery  in  this.  What  crime 
have  1  committed  in  loving  my  cousin,  beyond  my 
breach  of  faith  to  Norma  ?  Would  it  not  have  been  as 
bad  had  I  loved  Auo-usta  f' 

"  Loved  Augusta !  You're  crazy,  young  man  !  Of 
course,  it  wouldn't !  Why,  that  would  be  nothing. 
But  to  love  Jack — oh,  it's — it's  terrific!'''' 

"  Keally,  uncle,''  said  Disbrowe,  coldly,  "  this  is  very 
singular,  to  say  the  least.  Miss  Jacquetta  appears  to  be 
a  sort  of  human  Koh-i-noor — a  female  mysterious 
princess,  whom  it  is  high  treason  to  look  at.  /do  not 
eee  anythinn^  at  all  territic  about  the  business." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know — you  don't  know.  Good 
gracious  !  if  you  did  I    Does  Jacquetta  know  this  V 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  She  does  !     My  dear  boy,  what  did  she  say  ?" 

"  Say  ?  She  said  so  much  that  I  would  find  it  dif- 
ficult to  tell  you.    I  know  she  got  into  a  towering 


f 

it 


,3;     , 


I 


^ 


213 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


V' 


i-i 


m 


passion,  and  told  me  T  had  insulted  her — which  was  far 
enoui^li  from  my  thoughts,  Heaven  knows !  One  thing 
you  may  set  your  mitid  at  rcbt  about — she  doesn't  cai'o 
two  eo})pers  for  me." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  for  that !" 

Disbrowe  stopi)ed  in  his  excited  walk,  and  looked 
at  him,  as  well  he  might. 

Mr.  Do  Vere  had  recovered  from  his  first  paroxysm 
of  horror  and  astonishment,  and  was  growing  calm. 

"  This  is  a  most  unfortunate  affair — dreadfully  un- 
fortunate— the  worst  thing  that  could  possibly  happen  ! 
and  1  am  very  sorry  for  you,  my  dear  boy.  Yes ;  you 
must  go — there  is  no  help  for  it ;  but  you  must  return 
again,  sometime — when  you  are  married  V 

A  strange  sort  of  smile  llickered  around  Disbrowe's 
handsome  mouth ;  but  his  only  reply  was  a  slight  bow. 

"  Does  she — Jaccpietta,  I  mean — know  you  are  going 
to-morrow  f 


No,  sir. 


5> 


"  Will  you  tell  her  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly,  sir !"  said  Disbrowe,  haughtily. 
"You  do  not  suppose  I  am  going  to  steal  off  without 
bidding  her  good-bye.     I  shall  see  her  to-morrow." 

"  My  dear  Alfred,  I  am  very  sorry,  and  I  know 
you  feel  this  deeply  ;  but,  believe  me,  Jacquetta  feels 
it  just  as  much  as  you  can  possibly  do." 

Disbrowe  thought  of  the  scene  in  Jacinto's  cham- 
ber, and  again  that  bitter,  mocking  smile  came  over  his 
face. 

"  You  must  try  to  forget  her ;  you  must  try  to  be 
happy  ;  you  must  love  your  bride.     Will  you,  Alfred  ?" 

"  I  will  try." 

"  God  bless  you,  ray  dear  boy  !  I  could  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  keep  you  here  forever,  when  you  look  at 
me  with  your  dead  mother's  eyes.  And  so  you  go  to- 
morrow f 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will  leave  here  for  New  York,  and  from 
there,  in  a  day  or  two,  will  start  for — " 


I 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


213 


bich  was  far 

Olio  thing 

iocsn't  cai'o 


and  looked 

st  paroxysm 
ig  calm, 
siidfully  un- 
)\y  happen ! 
Yes  ;  you 
nust  return 


Disbrowe's 
slight  bow. 
mare  going 


haughtily. 
)ff  without 

ITOW." 

nd  I  know 
uetta  feels 

ito's  cliam- 
le  over  liis 

it  try  to  be 
i,  Alfred  V 

\  find  it  in 
''ou  look  at 
you  go  to- 

,  and  from 


"  Merric  England  !  The  dear  old  land  that  I  long 
to  see  again." 

*'  I  hope  to  sec  yon  at  Fontelle  Park,  sir — old  Fon- 
telle,"  s;ii(i  DisI)rowc,  with  a  smile. 

"rcrhapsl  may.  When  you  arc  married,  I  will 
bring  Augusta,  and  come  over  to  see  you." 

"Do  so,  my  dear  niicle  ;  and,  whether  married  or 
single,  you  will  always  i)e  welcomed  with  a  true  Jieart 
to  the  old  home  of  the  De  Veres." 

'*  I  know  it.  Give  my  love  to  Earneclifle  and  Lady 
Margaret.  I  suppose  you  will  be  busy  for  the  rest  of 
the  evening;  so  J  will  nut  detain  you." 

Disbrowe  left  the  library,  and  sought  his  own  room, 
to  arrange  his  affairs  before  starting.  It  occupied  him 
until  the  supper-l)ell  rang;  and  then  he  descended  the 
stairs  with  a  small  pain  at  his  heart,  as  he  thought  it 
was  the  last  time,  in  all  probability,  he  should  ever  hear 
it. 

Neither  Jacinto  nor  Jaequetta  appeared,  and  he 
was  ghid  of  it.  He  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  either 
very  well,  just  then,  and  yet  he  would  not  for  worlds 
liave  gone  away  without  seeing  the  latter.  lie  looked 
forward  to  that  last  meetin;c  with  somethin^jr  of  the 
same  feelings  wherowiih  a  criminal  led  to  execution 
might  look  his  last  at  the  bright  sun,  and  beautiful  sky, 
and  smiling  earth,  knowing  he  would  never  look  upon 
them  in  the  world  again. 

Frank  was  loud  in  his  lamentation,  and  Augusta 
looked  her  regret  at  losing  her  cousin ;  but  Disbrowe 
sat  and  listened  wath  a  strange,  restless  feeling  at  his 
heart,  for 

"Ever  close  and  near 
A  lady's  voice  was  in  his  ear." 

And  all  the  evening  he  watched  the  door  with  feverish 
impatience  for  her  coming,  starting  whenever  it  opened, 
and  sinking  back  with  a  sicken.! ng  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment when  she  came  not. 

The  clock  struck  eleven  before  his  uncle  and  cousin 


I  ♦ 


U  J     I'i 


214 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


M 


M.    f 


!*  m 


1  .ii 


),!< 


I!'t 


left  the  drawii\i2;-room  that  oveniti2: ;  and  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  his  own  thoui^hts — angry  and  disap- 
pointed in  spite  of  himself  at  her  absence.  Wliat  if  he 
should  not  see  her  at  all  before  lie  left  ?  He  strove  to 
persuade  himself  tliat  lie  did  not  care — that  she  was 
nothini^  to  him  ;  he  thoui^lit  of  her  as  he  had  seen  lier 
last;  but  all  would  not  do.  The  thought  that  it  was 
tlie  very  last  time,  perhaps,  he  should  ever  see  )icr, 
softened  his  feeliniijs.  She  rose  before  him  bri<i;ht  and 
radiant,  as  he  had  ilrst  seen  her  standing  in  the  golden 
glory  of  the  bright  morning  sunshine  ;  and  he  could 
remember  nothing  but  that  he  loved  her  with  all  his 
heart,  and  was  about  to  lose  her  forever.  With  some- 
thing like  a  groim,  he  sat  down  I)y  the  table,  and  drop- 
f)ed  his  head  on  his  arm,  and  for  more  than  an  hour 
le  sat  there,  as  still  and  motionless  as  if  death  had  stilled 
forever  that  im[)ulsive  heart.  Proud  he  had  been  called, 
and  proud  he  was,  too  ;  but  he  felt  humble  enough 
now. 

Dear  reader,  you  may  think  him  inconsistent ;  and 
perhaps  he  was.  But  just  remember  the  time  you 
were  in  love  yourself,  and  hud  to  bid  Sarah  Jane  or 
Mary  Ann  good-bye  ;  and,  although  you  wei'e  madly 
"jealous  of  her  and  that  ferociously  good-looking  whis- 
kered jackanapes  she  had  flirted  with  last,  how  dreadfully 
bad  you  felt  about  it,  and  how  ready  you  were  to  fur- 
give  her  all,  and  lay  your  head  on  lu!r  modt^Nellne  de 
la'uie  bosom  and  groan  out  all  vonr  love  and  i'e[)entance. 
And  lovers  and  lunatics  are  not  to  be  held  account- 
able for  what  they  say  or  do,  as  sane  people  like  you 
and  I  are  ;  and  so  poor  AUVed  Uisbrowe  thought,  and 
nobody  contradicted  him  ;  but,  in  si)ite  of  his  prospect- 
ive coronet  and  hundred  t.'ioasand  a  year,  he  was  the 
most  miserable,  forlorn  youi'.g  llriton  in  existence. 

lie  took  no  heed  of  ])assing  time  as  he  lay  there, 
lie  only  remend)ered  that  it  was  the  last  night  he  was 
to  pass  under  the  same  roof  with  ,Iac(pietta,  and  that 
thought  bi'ought  with  it  the  bi(terne;-.s  of  death.  So 
he  lay,  ])erfectly  motionless,  and  so  dead  to  all   outer 


A     QUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


215 


onnd  liim- 
iiid  disap- 
»V]iat  if  he 
!  strove  to 
,t  slie  was 
1  seen  lier 
;liat  it  was 
r  see  licr, 
jriij^ht  and 
he  golden 
he  could 
ith  all  his 
nth  some- 
and  drop- 
i  an  hour 
had  stilled 
een  called, 
le  enough 

itent;  and 
time  you 
h  Jane  or 
i"e  madly 
iug  whis- 
1  read  fully 
!re  to  for- 
s,seilne  de 
pentance. 
account- 
like  you 
gilt,   and 
prospect- 
i  was  the 
■ncc. 

ay  there, 
\  lie  was 
and  that 
■;itli.  So 
all  outer 


.ft 

1 


M 


things,  that  lie  heard  not  the  door  softly  open,  nor  saw 
the  light,  delicate  tlgure  that  stood  in  the  doorway. 

It  was  Jaccpictta,  paler,  perhaps,  than  usual,  but 
with  a  cold,  ])roud  look  on  her  face,  and  the  deliant 
lire  still  smoldering  in  her  dark  eye,  ready  to  blaze  up 
again  at  one  haughty  word  or  supercilious  tone.  There 
was  that  in  her  look,  half-shyness,  half-detiance,  such  as 
shines  through  the  wild  eyes  of  half-tamed  animals, 
but  it  softened  as  it  fell  on  that  i)rostrate  iigu."e  and 
young,  grief-bowed  head.  A  pang  smote  her  heart 
at  the  sight.  There  was  something  so  forlorn  and 
sorrowful  in  his  attitude — so  touching  to  see  in  one 
80  proud.  She  could  forget  his  taunts  and  bitter  words, 
and  remember,  with  a  still  softening  heart,  that  she 
was  the  cause,  and  that  on  the  morrow  he  was  going 
awtvy,  never  to  come  back.  She  came  over,  and  one 
little  white  hand  fell  softly  and  tenderly  among  the 
neglected  locks  of  his  rich,  brown  hair. 

^^  JJcar  Alj'redr  she  said,  gently. 

lie  looked  uj),  and  the  last  trace  of  her  anger  faded 
away  at  the  sight  of  his  grieved  face  and  sad,  reproach- 
ful eyes. 

"  ()  Jacquetta  !  have  you  come  at  last  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  bid  you  good-l>ye." 
,  "  You  know,  then,  I  am  goijig  away  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"■  And  you  are  glad,  no  doubt,"  he  said,  witli  sorao 
of  his  old  bitterness. 

''  We  will  not  (piarrel  again,  Cousin  Alfred,  if  you 

E lease.      We  have  had  enough  of  that  for  one  wiiile. 
et  us  part  friends." 

"  Friends  we  never  can  be,  Jacquetta  P' 
"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  she  said,  sadly. 
"Somethifig  far  more  or  somiithing  far  less  we  must 
be  to  one  another.     As  cousins  we  may  part — never  as 
iriends. 

*'  You  will  think  dillercntly,  by-and-by ;  you  are 
angry  now." 


■»!. 
k 


w 


,1  '•! 


216 


A     q  UEEN    UNGR  0  WNED. , 


l'-«ic« 


t 


J  I 


tl     ilfj 


I    Hit 


n 


'I 


n  '  1 


i     ,:S 


"  O  Jacqnctta  !  1  wisli  to  Jleaven  I  had  never  come 
here  I"  lie  cried,  veliciiieiitly. 

"It  is  useless  wisliiiig'  that  now.  It  mio:ht  have 
been  better  for  each  of  iis  if  you  never  had  ;  but  what 
will  be  will  be." 

"  O  flacquetta !  is  it  too  late  yet  ?  I  will  give  up 
everythini^  for  you  !  Perish  wealth  and  rank,  when  put 
in  competition  with  this  dear  hand !" 

"  Enough,  Cousin  Alfred !  You  are  raving  again. 
You  say  we  cannot  part  friends,  we  will  go  to  the  other 
extreme  and  part  enemies,  if  you  keep  on  like  this. 
Between  you  and  .Tacquetta  De  Vere  lies  a  gulf  as  wide 
as  that  between  Lazarus  and  Dives,  and  just  as  impas- 
sable. I  will  not  see  you  to-morrow ;  so  I  have  come 
tO  bid  you  good-bye  and  God-speed  to-night." 

She  held  out  her  hand  with  a  faint  smile.  He  took 
it,  and  dropped  his  hot  forehead  on  the  cool,  wliite 
palm . 

"  And  it  all  ends  here,  Jacquetta  ?" 

"  Yes.  Is  it  not  a  better  ending  than  that  Grizzle 
Ilowlet  prophesied  ?" 

He  started,  and  his  face  was  crimson. 

"  I  have  lived  in  a  trance  since  I  came  here — the 
pleasantest  one  I  ever  knew,  and  it  is  very  hard  this 
awaking.  O  Jacquetta!  I  never  knew  till  now  how 
dear  >ou  were  to  me  !" 

"  You  will  for<j^et  me  in  a  month." 

"Never  !"  he  almost  fiercely  exclaimed. 

"You  will  laugh  at  this  in  three  months,  and  won- 
der you  could  ever  have  been  such  a — shall  I  say  it? — 
simpleton.     See  it"  I  am  not  a  true  prophet!" 

He  dashed  her  liand  away,  and  sju'ang  to  his  feet. 

"  Jacquetta,  you  are  enough  to  drive  a  man  mad! 
Your  heart  is  as  hard  as  a  nether  millstone  !  You  have 
no  more  feeling  than  a  block  of  iron  !" 

She  smiled  slightly  and  looked  at  him  with  her 
calm  gray  eyes. 

"  J  )oirt  look  at  me  so  !  You  drive  me  frantic  with 
your  cold,  icy  eyes !  Good  Heavens  1  that  with  such  a 


A     QCErX    UNCUOWXED. 


O  1  "• 

Mi    I 


never  come 

mii>:ht  liave 
. ;  but  what 

ill  p;ive  np 
V,  wlien  put 

/in a;  ap^ain. 
to  tlic  other 
m  like  tliis. 
!;ulf  as  wide 
t  as  impas- 
have  come 

:.     He  took 
cool,  wliite 


lat  Grizzle 


here — the 

y  hard  this 

now  how 


and  won- 

say  it  ? — 

his  feet, 
man  mad  1 
You  have 

n  with  her 

•antic  with 
ith  such  a 


fire  in  my  heart,  you  can  stand  before  me  such  an  ice- 

bcr-!" 

''  Ice  extinguishes  lire,  and  one  lunatic  is  enough  at 
a  time.     AViiuii  you  arc  done  raving,  I  may  begin." 

'•  And  this — this  is  what  I  havo'loved  !  This  dead 
heart — this  marble  statue — this  gh-l  of  ice — this — " 

"  rerlidious,  unfeeling,  abandoned  female!  There, 
I  have  helped  you  out !  Now,  stamp  up  and  down,  and 
tear  your  hair,  and  swear  till  all's  blue  !  That  the  way 
they  do  it  in  the  l)lays." 

"  Did  you  come  here  to  mock  me  ?  Am  I  an  idiot 
in  your  eyes  C  he  asked,  passionately. 

"  Very  like  it,  I  nnist  confess,  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. I'came  here  to  bid  you  farewell,  as  I  am  going 
away  to-morrow  morning,  and  will  not  see  you  again  ; 
so,  if  you  have  no  objection,  1  will  sit  down  till  you 
have  ranted  yourself  back  to  your  sober  senses,  and 
then  we  may  part  as  decent  Christians  sliould.'' 
^,  She  drew  an  ell)ow-chair  up  to  the  lire,  poked  it  up 
until  it  burst  out  in  a  great  sheet  of  llanie,  and  then 
utting  two  little  slipporcd  feet  up  on  the  fender,  she 
c:ined  her  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  dropped  her 
cheek  on  her  hand,  yawned  Vv-earily,  and  looked  in  the 
lire. 

There  is  nothing  will  drive  one  frantic  sooner  than 
getting  into  a  passion  with  another,  and  seeing  them 
sit  as  serene  and  unmovcHl  as  a  wa\  doll  before  us, 
Dis1)rowe  was  like  one  insane  for  a  few  moments,  and 
burst  out  in  a  lierce  tirade,  in  which  "cruel,  heartless, 
unwomanly, ■■  were  among  the  mildest  epithets  ai)plied 
toiler;  but  she  listened  to  all  as  if  he  were  a  parrot 
repeating  a  lesson.  At  last  he  g(jt  exhausted,  ami  Hung 
himself  into  a  seat  like  a  sulky  lion. 

'•  \\'ell,  lire  you  done  ^"  she  said,  looking  up  and 
•awning  behind  her  linger  tips.  "1  want" to  go  to 
'ed." 

"  Go  then  !"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  But  won't  you  say  good-bye  lirst?" 

10 


I 


I 


^^ 


218 


A     qUEEN    UNCROWNED. 


I  1 


w\\^> 


U  \n 


U« 


t 


^! 


'^  ill! 


"With  all  my  heart  1  I  never  said  it  to  any  one 
more  gladly !" 

"  Well,  that's  pleasant  to  hear,  and  very  polite  on 
your  part,  too.  I  forgive  you  for  all  the  names  you 
called  mo,  as  I  believe  I  gave  you  a  blowlug-up  the 
other  evening,  and  it  is  only  tit  for  tat.  So  good-bye, 
Cousin  Alfred." 

She  got  up  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  coldly,  just  touching  the  tips 
of  her  white  jeweled  lingers. 

"  Oh,  this  will  never  do  !     Shake  hands,  cousin." 

"I  had  rather  be  excused.  I  only  sliake  hands 
with  my  friends." 

"And  lam  never  to  be  placed  in  that  category  ^ 
Well,  I  should  not  mind  that  much ;  but  1  hate  to  part 
in  anger  witli  any  one  1  may  never  see  again.  Come! 
don't  display  such  an  unchristian  feeling,  my  dear 
Alfred  !  Do  as  you  would  be  done  bv,  \  on  know :  and 
if  that  does  not  move  you,  remember  that  pathetic 
little  canticle  of  the  excellent  and  prosy  AVatts,  begin- 
ning: 'Let  dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite,'  and  just 
apply  that  touching  passage :  '  Your  little  hands  were 
never  made  to  tear  each  other's  eyes,'  to  our  case,  and 
I  am  sure  it  will  move  you,  since  it  might  move  Mount 
Vesuvius,  or  any  other  liery  excrescence." 

"We  are  too  civilized  for  anythin*^  of  rhat  sort,  my 
dear  cousin,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "  We  only  tear  each 
other's  heiirts." 

"Well,  being  children  of  a  larger  growth,  it  is  to 
be  expected  that  we  shonld  improve  in  the  art  of  tor- 
ture. But,  Cousin  Alfred,  I  am  tired  of  this  fencing ; 
our  swords  may  slip,  and  one  of  us  get  a  hard  blow. 
Uesides,  unronnmtic  as  the  confession  sounds,  1  am 
dreadfully  sleepy.  Once  more  farewell,  and  Uod  speed 
you,  my  dear  cousin  1" 

Her  voico  faltered  a  little.  It  is  hard  to  say  gootl- 
bye,  even  to  an  every-day  accpiaintance  whom  we  like ; 
but  oh!  very,  very  hard  to  one  we  love!  lie  saw  her 
lip  quiver,  and  it  moved  him  as  nothing  else  could  have 


A     qUEEN    UIfCIiO]7NED. 


219 


it  to  any  one 

very  polite  on 

lie  names  you 

lo\viiig-up  the 

So  good-bye, 


Lcliing  the  tips 

ds,  cousin." 
sliake  hands 

;hat  category  i 
1  hate  to  part 

f^ain.     Come ! 

ng,    my    dear 

OR  know ;  and 
that  patlietic 
Watts,  begin- 

»ite,'  and  just 
1  hands  were 
our  case,  and 
move  Mount 

rliiit  sort,  my 
nly  tear  each 


owth,  it  is  to 
he  art  of  tor- 
tliis  fencing; 
a  liard  blow. 
)unds,  1  am 
id  God  speed 


i( 


I  to  say  gooil- 
loni  we  like  ; 
He  saw  her 
so  could  have 


done.  His  anger  and  bitterness  all  vanished,  and  he 
was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  holding  both  her  hands  in 
his,  and  saying,  passionately  : 

"  Jacquetta,  JaccpieUa!  my  first,  my  last,  my  only 
love,  good  bye,  and  liod  bless  you !  I  have  been  mad 
to  talk  to  you  as  I  did.  My  dearest  love,  say  you  for- 
give me  before  we  part." 

"  I  forgive  you.     J^et  me  go." 

Still  he  held  her.  A  lire  was  rising  in  his  eye,  a 
llnsh  was  rising  iu  his  face.  She  looked  up,  and  quailed 
in  fear  before  that  glance. 

"Let  nie  ^oV'  she  cried,  wildly;  "  let  me  go,  sir ! 
What  do  you  mean  V^ 

"  Jacquetta!" 

"Are  you  mad.  Captain  DIsbrowe?  Let  me  go,  1 
command  you  !"  she  cried,  with  a  passionate  stamp  of 
her  foot. 

"Jacquettal" 

With  a  fierce  cry,  she  wrenched  her  hands  from  liig 
grasp,  and  lied  to  the  door.  She  stood  there  for  one 
moment  like  a  wounded  stag  at  bay,  her  eyes  blazing, 
her  face  colorless,  panting,  frightened,  defiant,  lie  did 
not  move  ;  he  stood  like  a  statue. 

"  Once  more  farewell,  and  /jo?i  vof/arje .'"  she  said, 
waving  her  hand.  And  the  next  moment  the  sparkling 
little  vision  was  gone,  and  Captain  Alfred  Disbrowe  was 
alone. 


^r 


r, 


f 


220 


THE    S'lORT    Ijy    THE    LONE    /iViV. 


CHAPTEK  XVI. 


THE  STORY  IN  THE  LONE  INN. 


**  ITow  now,  you  secret,  blnck  and  midnight  hag, 

Wliut  is't  you  do  V — Macuictu. 

HAT  saniG  ni<^lit,  three  iioiirs  earlier,  there 
"  niinjht  have  been  seen,"  if  tlierc  had  been 
anybody  out  to  see,  which  there  wasn  t,  an 
ancient  mariner  ploddinc^  liis  way  along  the 
lonesome  road  between  the  Mermaid  Tavern 
and  the  lone  inn.  The  nii^'ht  was  dark,  an<l  tlie  road 
was  bad,  but  Captain  Nick  Tempest  had  a  supreme  con- 
tempt for  muddy  roads  and  the  clerk  of  the  weather; 
so,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  a  phig  of  tobacco 
in  his  mouth,  his  tarpaulin  cocked  on  one  side  of.  his 
head,  he  ])lunged  manfully  alonij;,  whistling  "  Barbara 
Allen"  as  he  went,  by  jerks,  with  long  pauses  between 
the  bars. 

Captain  Tempest  was  thinking — which  was  sonie- 
tliing  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  as  a  general 
thing,  being  more  given  to  acting.  Old  Crrizzle's  man- 
ner the  night  before  had  implied  something  serious ; 
and  he  felt  intensely  curious  to  know  what  revelations 
she  had  to  make  to-night.  That  it  was  something 
important,  ho  felt  convinced — for  Grizzle  was  not  a 
lady  to  mak(^  a  luystery  of  trifles ;  and,  moreover,  she 
had  contrived  to  have  her  two  hopeful  sons,  Kit  and 
Jilaise,  and  her  equally-hopeful  brother,  old  Till,  sent 
out  of  the  way,  that  she  and  the  commander  of  the 
"Fly-by-Night"  might  hold  their  nocturnal  tete-d-tete 
undisturbed. 

Not  being  blessed  with  a  very  vivid  imagination, 


WN. 


thag, 


irlier,  there 
re  had  been 
Q  wasn't,  an 
y  along  the 
laid  Tavern 
nd  tlie  road 
iprcnie  con- 
10  weather; 
;'  of  tobacco 
side  of.  his 
n;  "  Barbara 
es  between 

was  sonie- 
is  a  general 
zzle's  nran- 
ng  serious ; 
revelations 
soniethinii' 
was  not  a 
reovei",  she 
IS,  Ivit  and 

Till,  sent 
lor  of  the 

tete-d-tete 

lagination, 


THE    BTORT    IN    TEE    LONE    INN. 


231 


however,  Old  Nick  found  the  nut  too  hard  to  crack  ; 
and  so  wisely  resolved  not  to  strain  his  teeth  trying  it, 
but  to  wait  until  time  and  his  fair  friend  should  see  fit 
to  extract  the  kernel. 

Having  with  much  pain  and  labor  ?ome  to  this 
philosopliical  conclusion  at  last,  Captain  Nick  steered 
contentedly  along,  with  that  rolling  motion  peculiar  to 
mtirine  gentlemen,  like  a  ship  on  an  uneasy  kwell. 
Plunging  resolutely  through  the  wet  level  where  the 
old  iiouse  stood,  he  reached  it  at  last;  and  giving  a 
tremendous  knock,  began  yelping  like  a  whipped  cur. 
Evidently  tliis  was  a  sort  of  signal,  for  the  sound  of 
bolts  withdrawing  followed  instantly.  The  door  swung 
open,  and  the  pleasant  face  of  Old  Grizzle  llowlet 
beamed  on  him  by  the  light  of  the  lantern. 

"  Good  night,  my  chick-a-leary  !  Punctuality  is  the 
soul  of  time,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  hazy  recollection  of 
some  proverb.  ''How  do  you  iind  yourself  this  morn- 
ing, my  sweet  pet  ^  ijlooming  and  beautiful  as  the 
Goddess  of  Morning,  as  usual,  1  see." 

"  There  was  a  time  when  you  thought  me  blooming 
enough,"  said  the  woman,  in  a  harsh  voice,  as  she  se- 
cured the  door ;  "  when  you  would  have  shot  any 
other  man  foi*  even  looking  at  me  !" 

"■  Ah  !  every  one  is  a  fool  some  time  in  their  life," 
said  the  captain,  Hinging  himself  into  a  chair  before  the 
kitchen  iire,  and  stretching  out  his  legs  to  the  genial 
heat.  ''  Not  that  I  would  insinuate  I  made  a  fool  of 
myself  in  that  blessed  and  verdant  time  of  youth;  for 
you  are  a  second  Helen  for  whom  another  Troy  might 
be  lost.  '  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians  !'  but  greater 
still  is  Grizzle  of  New  Jersey  I     Got  any  beer?" 

"  Yes,  take  it,"  said  the  woman,  ungraciously  point- 
ing to  a  jug  and  a  pewter  pint  on  the  table.  "There's 
a  pipe,  too,  if  you  want  it." 

^  •'  It's  just  exactly  what  I  do  want.  Ah  !  that's 
prime  stui'f  !"  said  the  captain,  smacking  his  lips.  "  It 
reminds  me  of  the  bottles  of  'alf-and-'alf  we  used  to 
drink  in  the  greeu-room  of  Old  Drury  between  the 


f 

■el 


<  t< 


I 


l\ , 


•.  '■« 


»'i 


I' 


223 


THE    STORY    IN    TUE    LONE    INN. 


scenes.     Do  you   remeip.^er  those  l^lissful  times,   my 
beauty  ?" 

"  l^cs,  better  than  I  '.vant  to,"  said  Grizzle,  almost 
savagely,  as  she  sat  on  a  low  stool,  and  with  her  elbow 
on  her  knees,  and  her  chin  between  her  hands,  looked 
gloomily  in  tlie  lire.  "  I'm  not  likely  to  look  at  you 
and  forget  them." 


"And  here's  a  liiin'  my  trusty  frien', 
And  gie's  a  liiui'  (/  tliine, 
"We'll  tiik'  a  right  gude  williewacht 
For  the  days  o'  auld  lang  sync," 


HI.1  I     ,1 


sang  the  captain,  jocosely,  as  he  resumed  liis  seat,  and 
leisurely  proceeded  to  lill  his  pipe. 

"  That's  so,  old  friend.     All !  those  were  the  days !" 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so  well  of  them.  You  gave 
me  cause  to  remember  them  after  another  fashion." 

A  grim  smile  broke  over- the  face  of  the  captain,  as 
he  pushed  up  his  hat,  which  he  considered  a  super- 
fluous piece  of  ceremony  to  take  off ;  and  having  un- 
buttoned his  coarse  pea-jacket  and  thrown  it  open,  he 
blew  a  few  whilfs  of  smoke  to  get  his  pipe  in  good  go- 
ing order,  and  leisurely  replied  : 

"I  believe  I  did  act  kind  of  ugly  about  that  busi- 
ness ;  but  you  see,  my  love,  man  is  naturally  tickle,  and 
Captain  Nick  Tempest  particularly  so.  What  does 
our  old  acquaintance,  Shakspere — glorious  Will — say  ? 


^i 


*  Trust  not  to  man — we  are  by  nature  false, 
Dissembling,  cruel,  subtle,  and  inconstant. 
When  a  man  talks  of  love,  with  caution  trust  him; 
But  if  he  swears,  he'll  certamly  deceive  thee.' 


And  I  was  ready  to  swear  you.  know,  that  fair  was 
foul  and  foul  was  fair  for  your  sake,  at  one  time.  It 
is  wonderful  how  soon  I  got  over  that  short  brain- 
fever." 

"  Yes ;  when  a  prettier  face  came  between,"  said 


pi 


mN. 


THE    STORY    IN     TUB    LONE    INN. 


223 


1  times,   my 

izzle,  almost 
;li  Jier  elbow 
ands,  looked 
ook  at  you 


lis  seat,  and 

3  the  days !" 
You  gave 
Fashion." 
D  captain,  as 
ed  a  super- 
having  un- 
it open,  he 
in  good  go- 
it  that  busi- 
.'  lickie,  and 
What  does 
Vill— say  ? 


st  him; 
e.' 

at  fair  was 
le  time.  It 
liort  brain- 
ween,"  said 


'3 


the  woman,  bitterly.  "  Don't  scowl,  Nick  Tempest ! 
The  d;iv  has  gone  by  when  1  feared  your  frown  !" 

'•  1)1(1  you  ever  fear  it  V 

'-  .\()  need  to  ask  that  question;  you  know  too  well 
I  dihTr  dare  to  call  my  soul  my  own.  Thank  Heaven 
I  am  not  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  has  been 
dect'ived  !"' 

"  A  charitable  thanksgiving  I"  said  the  captain,  with 
a  sneer, 

"  You  didn't  bring  me  liere,  I  hope,  to  talk  maud- 
lin sentiment  of  by-gone  days.  '  Let  the  dead  bury 
their  d^'ad.'    It's  devilish  hard  to  rekindle  black  ashes." 

''Don't  fear,  I  have  no  more  wish  to  recall  the  past 
than  you  have.  Yet  it  may  be  necessary  to  allude  to  it 
more  than  once  to-ni<jht." 

A  dark,  sinister  smile  was  on  her  face,  and  her  evil 
eyes  gleamed  red  and  hot  in  the  light  of  the  lire. 

"  Well,  lire  away,  my  duck!  My  feelings  are  none 
of  the  tenderest  or  most  sensitive,"  said  the  captain, 
smoking  severely. 

'•  Then  you  have  changed  since  a  certain  day  some 
years  ago,  if  you  remember.  There  was  a  name  then 
you  did  not  cxactlv  covet  hearinu:." 

'"  You  mean  Lelia.     I've  got  nicely  over  thac." 

''  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Then  you  will  not  object  to 
ray  alluding  to  her  a  little?" 

"  \Vhat  do  you  want  to  allude  to  her  for?  WhatVj 
the  use  of  raking  up  plague-pits  V 

"  I  never  do  anything  without  an  object,  as  you  %vill 
discover  before  I  have  done.  I  have  sent  for  you  to 
tell  you  a  short  imd,  I  flatter  myself,  not  uninteresting 
story,  to  night." 

Tiie  captain  stared. 

''  A  story — what  the  dickens  1  You  have  not  taken 
leave  of  your  senses,  have  you  ?" 

"  iS'(jt  exactly.     Arc  you  ready  to  listen?" 

"All  I'ight — heave  ahead." 

The  \v'oman  glanced  askance  at  him,  as  he  sat  smok- 
ing, the  very  picture  of  composure — an  evil,  mocking 


i 


;  t 
1 


224 


THE    STORY    IN    THE    LONE    INN. 


•y.  I' 


h.:^-,  : 


'\ 


.1  M 


p^hnico  ;  and  tlioTi,  dropping  lier  voic'o  into  the  monoto- 
noi::-,  iiionotone  of  a  true  stury-teliur,  she  hei^'an  : 

'*  ()n(!0  upon  a  time,  in  a  ccrt:\in  theatrical  corps  of 
a  eert;an  tlieator  in  old  England,  there  was  a  leadinir 
actress,  a  young  girl,  who  did  the  heavy-tragedy  busi- 
ness, and  was  one  of  the  bright  particular  stars  of  tli(3 
day.  She  was  not  very  handsome,  this  girl ;  l)ut  when 
she  trod  the  boards,  and  her  voice  ran.'j:  throuL!:h  the 
house;,  ])eople  forgot  her  looks,  and  tlumders  of  applau.^c, 
shook  the  building  fro:n  pit  to  ceiling.  Night  after 
night  when  she  appeared  as  Lady  Macbeth,  Jeanne 
d' Arc,  Catherine  Do  Medicis,  and  a  score  of  other  dai-k, 
lierce  characters,  into  which  she  conld  throw  all  the 
lire  and  passion  of  lier  nature,  has  lier  name  been 
shouted  nntil  the  dense  ])ublic  were  hoarse ;  and 
flowers,  and  boncjuets,  and  jewels  sometimes,  have  rained 
down  on  the  stage,  nntil  you  could  not  step  for  tramp 
ling  on  them  ;  and  this  tragic  muse,  this  new  Melpom- 
ene, became  the  toast  of  the  day.'' 

"  Self-praise  is  no  recommendation,"  muttered  the 
captain. 

"Peers  of  the  land  knelt  at  her  feet  with  offers, 
which  she  spurned,  as  she  did  tliosc  who  made  them — 
spurned  them  with  lierce,  indomitable  pride,  until  all 
London  had  to  respect,  as  well  as  praise  her.  Olfers  of 
marriage  were  made  her,  too,  from  men  over  whose 
eyes,  ynd  brains,  and  hearts,  her  acting  cast  a  glamour, 
like  the  fatal  song  of  the  fabled  siren — offers  she  once 
never  dreamed  of  receiving :  and  yet  she  spurned  them 
too.  And  why  did  she  do  so — tell  me  why  ?"  And 
the  woman  turned  fiercely  round  on  the  stoical  captain. 

"  Ah  !  just  so !  Why,  the  deuce  only  knows,"  said 
that  worthy  mariner,  with  an  exi)ressive  shrug. 

"  You  know,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing. 
There  was  a  young  actor  attached  to  the  same  company 
— not  much  noted  for  his  beauty,  nor  liio  dramatic 
talent ;  a  wild,  reckless,  devil-may-care  sort  of  a  desper- 
ado— lierce  as  a  Bedouin  of  the  desert — feared  by  all, 
and  loved  by  none." 


'^BR'-; 


4 


AViV. 

I  the  monoto- 
eii-aii : 

•ic'iil  corps  of 
v:is  ;i  leadiiii/ 
Lragedy  hiisi- 
•  stai-8  of  tlio 
'1 ;  l)ut  wIkmi 
thnnigli  the 
s  of  upplau.^c 

Kii^lit  after 
betli,  Jeanne 
f  other  dark, 
irow  all  tile 

name  been 
[joarse ;  and 
,  have  rained 
p  for  tram]> 
3\v  Melpom- 

fiuttered  tlie 

with  offers, 

lade  them — 

:de,  until  all 

.     Offers  of 

over  whose 

:  a  g-lamour, 

;rs  she  once 

urned  them 

ly  ?"     And 

cal  captain. 

nows,"  said 

amc  thing. 
10  company 
m  dramatic 
3f  a  desper- 
ired  by  all, 


THE    STORY    IN    THE    LONE    INN. 


235 


"  My  dear,  you  flatter,"  said  Captain  Nick,  with  a 
look  of  mock  huinilitv. 

"  Loved  hv  none,  did  I  say  ?  Ah,  yes !  there  was  one 
—more  fool  she— who  loved"  him  with  all  her  heart, 
witli  all  her  soul— would  have  sold  herself  to  Satan  to 
will  one  smile  from  him.  A  woman's  heart  is  a  strange 
riddle,  suice  even  she  herself  cannot  read  it." 

"  That\s  so  !"  said  the  captain,  emphatically. 

'•This  actress,  who  had  refused  so  many  better, 
richer,  handsomer  men,  stooped  to  love  him — liow  well, 
there  is  no  need  to  tell  now.  And  he— ho  discovered 
it.  She  was  not  one  to  keep  such  a  secret,  she  had  hot 
hloud  in  her  veins — hot  blood  that  had  descended  to 
her  through  fiery  channels." 

"So  had  he,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  laugh  ;  "^  and 
there  is  an  old-country  saying,  that  '  butter  to  butter  is 
no  kitchen.'  " 

*'  lie  was  proud  of  it — he  might  well  be ;  for  it 
elevated  him  from  the  nol)ody  he  was  before,  into  an 
object  almost  of  equal  interest  with  herself.  She  was 
rich,  and  she  shared  her  wealili  with  him  ;  and  he  took 
her  money  and  led  a  life  of  riot  and  wildest  debauchery, 
spending  it  like  water  from  the  clouds." 

Captain  Nick  perceptibly  winced. 

"  lie  said  he  loved  her,  and  she  believed  him — poor 
fool !  lY'i'liaps  she  thought  he  did ;  but  at  all  events, 
he  loved  her  money,  and  the  reputation  he  had  gained 
by  having  his  name  linked  with  hers.  And  it  was  all 
arranged  that  they  should  be  married  as  soon  as  lier  en- 
gagement was  ended,  and  travel  on  tlic  Continent.  She 
did  not  entirely  disapprove  of  his  wild  courses ;  women 
rather  like  men  who  have  the  reputation  of  being 
harum-scarum  dare-devils  ;  but  she  thought  he  carried 
things  to  excess — more  especially  as  he  sometimes 
stooped  to  robbery — even  to  robbing  the  dead.  Once 
her  husband,  slie  thought  she  could  have  reformed  him 
a  little  ;  and  that,  liaving  sown  his  wild  oats,  he  would 
settle  down  and  leave  the  crop  to  the  birds  of  the  air." 

"  Humph  1"  said  the  captain. 

10* 


i  -J 


226 


THE    8 TORT    IN    THE    LONE    JNN. 


I; 


11 


^'M 


m 


"  It  is  doubtful  whether  she  would  have  succeeded 
— the  demon  had  too  strong  a  hold  of  him  for  that; 
but,  at  all  events,  she  was  spared  the  trouble.  A  youni^ 
ballet-i2;irl  of  surpassingly  beauty  appeared — a  younLjf 
Frencli  girl,  only  known  as  Lelia^po(jr  as  a  church- 
mouse,  and,  rumor  said,  no  better  tlian  she  oui^ht  to  be." 

"  Knmor  lietl  there  I  She  was  the  ])uer  of  the  actress 
in  those  days  on  that  point !"  said  Captain  Tempest, 
cahnly. 

"Fcrhapsso;  her  afteractions  showed  it!  Well, 
this  young  actor  saw  her,  and  a  powder-magazine,  when 
a  lighted  torch  is  tlirown  in  it,  could  not  quicker  or 
more  iiercely  go  oil',  than  did  he  after  Mademoiselle 
Lelia." 

''Just  like  him  !  lie  always  had  a  nasty  habit  of 
going  up  like  a  rocket  and  (coming  down  like  a  stick," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  half  chuckle. 

"I  do  not  suppose  she  loved  him — I  am  pretty  sure 
she  did  not ;  but  she  wanted  to  get  married,  and  she 
thought  by  his  way  of  living  he  had  plenty  of  money. 
And  so  ho  Jiad ;  but — the  generous,  noble-] learted  youth ! 
— it  was  her  money  that  he  was  spending  so  riotously — 
she  who  was  fool  enough  to  trust  him,  and  believe  in 
Lim  implicitly." 

"  What  is  the  good  of  ripping  up  tliese  old  sores  ? 
I  wish  you  would  get  done,  Grizzle  1"  said  Captain  Nick, 
impatiently. 

She  smiled  sardonically. 

"  Have  patience.  I  am  only  beginning !  I  hope 
you  like  the  story^  Nick.  I  see  you  recognize  the 
characters." 

"  You  be  hanged  1"  growded  the  captain,  twisting 
uneasily  under  her  piercing  gaze. 

"Perhaps  I  may  some  day,  and  you  too,  if  che  gal- 
lows gets  its  due.  Let  us  live  in  hope.  AVell,  as  I  was 
saying,  the  actor  and  ballet-girl  fell  in  love  with  each 
other — or  we  will  suppose  so — and  the  result  of  it  was  an 
elopement  and  a  marriage.     Both  were  beggars,  with 


t     ,  ilif! 


mii. 


THE    STORY    IN    THE    LONE    INN. 


227 


e  succeeded 
iin  for  that; 
Ic.  A  ,yonii<r 
I — a  yoiMiuf 
as  a  cliurcli- 
m'^\ii  to  be." 
)f  the  actress 
ill  Tempest, 

it!  Well, 
azine,  when 
t  quicker  or 
.ademoiselle 

sty  habit  of 
;e  a  stick," 

pretty  sure 
3(J,  and  she 

of  money, 
rted  youth! 
riotously — 

believe  in 

old  sores? 
ptain  I^ick, 


[rl 

->  • 


I    1 


Dgnize 


lope 
the 


n,  twisting 

if  die  gal- 
11,  as  I  was 
with  each 
f  it  was  an 
jgars,  with 


no  way  in  the  world  -^f  earning  their  salt ;  so  you  seo 
what  a  pair  of  idiots  they  were." 

''  Yes  ;  I  can  see  through  a  hole  in  a  ladder  as  well  as 
any  one." 

*  "  The  actress  heard  it,  and  people  expected  a  scene  ; 
but  they  wiM-e  disaj^pointed.  She  might  have  been  a 
little  more  lierce  and  passionate  that  night,  playing 
Lide  Macbeth,  but  nothing  more.  She  was  one  of 
those  who  could  die  and  make  no  sign.  And  yet,  would 
you  believe  it,  though  her  eyes  were  dry,  her  heart  shed 
tears  of  blood!  Slie  tore  oil  her  velvet  robe  and  glit- 
tering jewels  that  night,  in  the  silence  of  her  own 
room ;  she  tore  her  ilesh,  and  writhed  like  one  reared 
with  a  red-hot  iron — the  fool,  the  idiot,  the  bedlamite, 
the  besotted  lunatic!" 

''  Upon  my  soul,  Grizzle  !"  cxckiimed  the  captain, 
"you  are  the  best  hand  tc  abuse  yourself  I  ever  heard. 
If  anybody  called  me  half  those  names,  I  would  be 
inclined  to  knock  them  into  the  middle  of  next  week 
— if  not  further." 

''  I  deserved  it  all !  I  was  what  so  many  others  of 
my  sex  are  for  the  same  cause  every  day — a  blind  fool ! 
But  1  will  never  get  to  the  end  of  my  story  if  you  con- 
tinue throwing  in  those  marginal  notes  of  yours.  To 
have  done  business  u])  perfectly,  I  am  aware,  this  act- 
ress ought  to  have  died  of  a  broken  heart,  and  'out  of 
her  bosom  there  grew  a  red  rose,  and  out  of  his  bosom 
a  briar,'  etc. ;  but  that  was  not  in  her  line.  What  do 
you  suppose  she  did  when  she  found  herself  deserted  ?" 

"  Consoled  herself  with  somebody  else." 

"  liight !  She  accepted  the  very  iirst  olier  she  got 
afterward,  and  married  an  unfortunate  little  anatomy 
she  could  have  doubled  up  and  put  in  her  pocket,  if 
she  chose.  She  did  it  for  two  reasons  ;  first,  to  let  peo- 
ple see  how  little  she  thought  of  his  desertion  ;  and 
secondly,  to  have  a  husband  she  could  govern,  and  who 
would  do  exactly  as  slie  told  him." 

"  Poor  little  Luke  Ilowlet !"    laughed  the  captain. 


(  . 


f  1 


THE    STORY    LV    TUB    LONE    INN. 

"  I  uhva}'."?  did  pity  liim.     If  s  :i   mercy   they  took  him 
up  above  as  soon  as  they  did." 

'"  She  found  out  that  lier  false  lover  and  his  bride 
liad  started  for  tlie  new  rcfugluni  peccatorum. — Am- 
erica ;  and  she  followed  tlieui  with  hur  little  tom-tit  of 
a  husband.  In  Xew  York  city  they  met,  and  a  ratlier 
siiii^ular  ineetini:;  it  was.  The  gay  deceiver  was  not 
quite  as  wide-awake  at  that  time  as  he  is  to-day,  and  the 
serene  face  and  pleasant  smiles  of  his  forsaken  lady- 
love completely  deceived  him,  and  he  imai^ined  himself 
entirely  forgiven.  The  stupid  dough-head !  To  think 
such  a  svomaii  would  ever  forgive  such  a  wrong  !" 

"Come,  my  beauty,  don't  turn  the  tables,  n!id  be- 
to  abuse  me  instead  of  yourself.     I  can't  stand  too 
much  of  that  sort  of  thimr,  vou  know." 

"  I>efore  the  honey-moon  was  over,  our  turtle-doves 
found  it  was  one  thing  to  talk  about  living  on  love,  and 
another  to  do  it.  Lelia's  pretty  face  and  bright  curls 
were  doubtless  very  nice  things  in  their  way  ;  but  bread 
and  butter  was  a  good  deal  more  substantial  in  the  end 
— aiid  so  her  young  husband  found.  To  labor,  he  was 
not  able — to  beg,  he  was  ashamed.  So  he  split  the 
difference  and  went  to  sea." 

A  shade  fell  on  Captain  Tempest's  face.  Grizzle 
looked  up  with  a  smile,  and,  after  a  pause,  went  on  : 

"  Will  you  mind  my  making  a  jump,  and  skipping 
over  six  years?  Our  new-born  sailor  still  contiimed 
cruising  about,  and,  when  became  home,  still  continued 
as  absurdly  fond  of  his  j)retty  wife  as  ever,  and  quite 
doted  on  his  bright,  little  live-year-old  daughter.  Ah  ! 
you  lllnch  I  Do  you  begin  to  feel  the  screws  tighten- 
ing r 

"  Go  on !"  he  said,  defiautly. 
Well,  one  day  ho  went  to  sea,  and  was  wrecked 
somewhere  on  the  coast  of  Cuba,  and  all  hands  were 
lost  but  hi:nself.  You  know  the  adage:  'Born  to  be 
hanged  will  never  be  drowned.'  So  you  will  not  won- 
der at  that.     Ho  was  picked  up  by  a  private  vessel,  and 


I- 


'  took  him 

I  his  ])ridG 
mm — Ain- 

toin-tit  of 
id  a  iMtlior 
ii'  was  not 
ly,  and  the 
ikcTi  lady- 
ed  himsell: 

To  think 

)S,  and  bO" 
.  stand  too 

ii'tlc-dovep 

II  love,  and 
rii^'ht  curls 

l)iit  bread 
in  the  end 
or,  lie  was 

split  the 

Grizzle 
ent  on  : 
skipping 
'outinued 
tontinucd 
lud  quite 
or.  Ah  ! 
tighten- 


wreckod 
nds  were 
)rn  to  be 

not  won- 
esscl,  and 


>- 


THE    STOUT    IN    Till;:    LOMJ    IXN. 


229 


—would  you  believe  it?— eleven  years  passed  before  he 
came  back." 

^^ouiethiuL,'  like  a  groan  came  from  the  lips  of  the 
captain. 

'•  i)Ut  {'oiHO  he  did  at  last — a  weather-beaten,  scarred, 
pi-i'inaturely  old  man.  And  where  do  you  think  he 
tuiind  his  wife  and  child  <'' 

*'  Vou  hag  of  Hades!  I  may  thank  you,  perhaps, 
for  it  all." 

"  You  may.  But  for  mo  she  would  never  have  ran 
away." 

''  You  she  fiend !  Aro  you  not  afraid  I  will  brain 
you  i 

"  Xo !" 

"  Uy  the  Heavens  above  us !  if  you  had  made  that 
confesiL.ion  six  years  ago,  you  would  not  have  lived  an 
instant  after." 

''  But  I  did  not  make  it.  I  was  not  quite  a  fool! 
Be  calm,  and  let  me  go  on  with  my  story.  One  year 
after  her  husband  went  away — when  her  daughter  was 
six  years  old  (and  she  was  still  a  pretty,  dark-eyed, 
bright-haired,  merry  French  girl) — a  young  foreigner 
— a  wild,  rich,  young  JSeotchman,  stopped  at  my  house. 
Ho  was  a  handsome  fellow,  dark-eyed,  merry,  bold, 
and  gallant — just  the  one  to  take  a  lady's  eye — more 
esi)ecially  such  a  lady  as  our  pretty  young  grass- 
widow." 

Captain  Nick  Tempest  ground  his  teeth  with  im- 
potent rage. 

'"His  name  was  Randall  Macdonald — how  do  you 
like  it  i — and  he  came  from  the  old  MaCdonald  who 
lived  and  fought  in  the  days  of  Robert  the  Bruce.  1 
introduced  him  to  the  handsome  French  girl,  and  what 
— Captain  Tempest,  my  good  friend — my  dear  friend — 
what  was  the  results" 

"  You  cursed  hag !"  he  groaned  throuurh  his  clencli- 

11  o  o  o 

eu  teetii. 

Such  a  bitter  sneer  as  was  on  lier  dark  face — such  a 


I 


'  t 


^yT 


it: 


I .: 


■M     ^ 


'II 


'i 


230 


THE    STORY    IN     THE    LANE    INN. 


bitter,  mocldnp^,  deriding  sneer!  Yet  she  looked  up, 
and  smiled  in  his  face. 

"  Yoya<'es  across  the  ocean  were  slower  even  in 
those  days  than  they  are  now ;  and  onr  handsome 
Scotchman  was  lonesome,  and  wanted  a  companion. 
A  pretty  French  woman,  gay  and  piquant,  was  just 
the  thing  ;  and  the  yonng  genlleman  was  not  one  to  be 
backward  in  tenderinij;  her  an  invitation.  I  nrwd  her  to 
accept  it.  I  promised  to  be  ;i  mother  to  little  Lelia ; 
and  the  result  of  our  combined  entreaties  was,  that 
Ca])tain  Tempest  came  from  sea  one  morning,  and 
found  himself  minus  a  wife." 

bhe  broke  into  a  laugh — a  low,  sneering  laugli,  un- 
speakably insulting. 

''  I  clianged  little  Lelia's  name,  and  gave  her  my 
second  one ;  and,  under  my  motherly  care,  she  reached 
the  age  of  thirteen.  Then — but  never  mind  that  Lelia; 
we  must  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  other.  Kandall 
Macdonald  was  fond  of  a  roving  life,  and  he  and 
madame  had  rather  a  pleasant  time  of  it,  cruioing 
round  the  world.  Six  years  after  his  American  esca- 
pade, his  elder  brother  died,  and  the  family  estate  fell 
to  him.  The  day  that  brought  him  the  news  saw  Lelia 
cold  and  dead — of  disease  of  the  heart.  She  had  died 
caressing  her  little  daughter — his  child — without  a 
moment's  warning.  No  wonder  you  never  could  llnd 
her  when  you  went  to  search  for  her.  You  would 
liave  to  dive  a  long  way  down  under  the  waves  of  the 
lo.nesome  sea  to  lind  the  pretty  form  of  Lelia  Tempest." 

lie  made  a  lierce  gesture,  as  if  casting  something 
from  him,  and  drew  a  long,  hard  breath. 

"  Let  her  go  !  That  is  the  last  of  her  t  But  my 
child,  woman — my  daughter — my  little  Lelia!  what  of 
her  V 

The  woman  laughed  scornfully,  and  stirred  the  fire. 

"  Speak  1  1  tell  you  !  Speak  !  1  command  3'ou  1" 
he  cried,  hercely.     "  You  have  not  dared  to  kill  her  ?" 

"  Kill  her  1  Oh,  no.  That  would  be  poor  re- 
venge !" 


\ 


m. 

looked  up, 

3r  even  in 
liaiidsoine 
iompanioTi. 
:,  was  just 
t  one  to  be 
irged  her  to 
ittle  Lelia; 
i  was,  that 
rning,  and 

■  laugh,  un- 

ive  her  my 

die  reached 

that  Lelia; 

•.     Kandall 

id   ho   and 

it,  cruioing 

erican  esca- 

i  estate  fell 

s  saw  Lelia 

le  had  died 

-without   a 

could  find 

fou  would 

aves  of  tlio 

Tempest." 

something 


THE    STORY    IN    TUE    LONE    INK 


281 


a 


But  my 
!  what  of 


•ed  the  fire, 
and  you  1" 
)  kill  her  V 
e  poor  ro- 


I 


*#, 


"  You  Satan  !  where  is  my  child  ?" 

"  Don't  fear ;  she  is  alive  and  well." 

lie  got  np,  white  with  eagerness. 

"  Woman,  tell  me  where  she  is!" 

"  It  is  easily  told— if  I  choose  !" 

"  Grizzle,  for  the  sake  of  old  times — for  the  sake  of 
all  that  is  past  and  gone,  let  me  see  her— my  little 
Lelia !" 

She  looked  at  him  in  scornful  surprise,  and  broke 
into  a  deriding  laugh. 

"  You  to  speak  of  %vhat  is  past  and  gone  ! — you  to 
exhort  me  by  that !     The  man  has  gone  mad  !" 

'"  You  she-devil !  speak !  or  1  will  tear  it  out  of 
your  foul  throat !" 

•'Try  it!" 

"Can  nothing  move  you?  My  little  Lelia!  O 
Grizzle!  can  nothing  move  you  ?" 

"Nothing  you  can  say  !  Sit  down,  calm  yourself, 
and  you  will  hear  idl  in  due  time.  Perhaps  you  will 
not  think  'my  little  Lelia'  such  a  priceless  jewel  when 
you  do  lind  her!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Grizzle  llowlet,  what  have 
you  done  with  that  child?" 

There  was  somethiniic  so  terrific  in  his  look  and 
tone  at  that  moment,  that  she  almost  shrank  before  it. 

"  Nothing  very  dreadful,"  slie  said,  angrily.  "  Sit 
dovv'u,  1  tell  you,  or  1  won't  speak  another  word  to- 
night. Whnt  if  you  were  to  liate  your  daughter  when 
1  name  her  'i" 

"  '^'i.ere  is  some  dark  meaning  hid  under  this. 
Grizzle  llowlet,  has  her  mother's  fate  been  hers?" 

She  laughed. 

"Oh,  no!  Can  you  conceive  nothing  worse  than 
that?  Her  mother  loved  and  was  beloved — in  a  sort  of 
a  way.     1  dare  say  she  was  happy." 

llis  face  worked,  and  liis  liands  clenched.  One 
fair  spot  remained  still  in  that  black  heart — love  for  his 
child.    But  for  how  long? 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ?"  lie  said,  in  a  strained  voice. 


I  ■  !■ 


1: 


PH, 


i' 


1     :,^"''l 


f       il 


,ii« 


233  THE    STORY    IN    THE    LONE    INN. 

"  To  be  siiro.     Tlmt  is  what  I  have  been  coming  to 
all  alono;.     She  is  a  lino  lady." 
-'Welir' 

"  You  have  seen  her — spoken  with  lier  1" 
"  Did  she  know  me  ?" 
"  iS'o." 

"  Where  does  she  live  ?" 
"  Here — in  New  Jersey." 
"  Well,  go  on.     I  cannot  bear  this  ;  you  are  tortur- 


ing me 


?5 


"  1  will  be  merciful,  then.  You  were  to  rae,  you 
know  !  Do  you  remember  a  scene  that  occurred  soxne 
thirty  miles  from  here  one  evening,  among  the  moun- 
tains, when  you  tried  to  send  a  certain  handsome  young 
Englishman  to  his  long  account  V^ 

"Yes." 

"  A  young  girl — a  bold,  pretty  little  thing — red- 
haired  and  gray-eyed,  like  somebody  else  we  know  of — 
interposed — saved  him,  disarmed  you,  and  sent  you  off, 
with  a  lecture." 

"  Yes  ;  curse  her !     I  will  be  avenged  for  tliat !" 

"Softly — softly,  captain,"  said  drizzle,  with  hex 
dark  smile.     "  Wait  until  you  hear  who  she  is  lirst !" 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Do  youknowthatmy  name  is  Grizzle  Jacquetta?" 

•'  Weil  ?" 

"  Well,  1  changed  Lclia  into  Jacquetta  one  day.  It 
was  easily  done,  and  without  troubling  the  Legisla- 
ture." 

lie  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  cry.  She  arose,  too, 
and  confronted  him. 

"  Grizzle  IJowlct,  is  she — 

"  She  was  Lelia  Tempest  once  ;  she  is  Jacquetta  Db 
Vero  now,  and  your  daughter  /" 


'ii'i 


iij' 


rjViV. 


THE    END     OF    THE    STOUT. 


233 


n  coming  to 


5> 


CHAPTER  XYII. 


I  are  tortnr- 

to  rae,  joii 
cuiTcd  some 
^  tliG  iiioun- 
some  young 


thing — rcd- 
3  know  of — 
:2nt  you  off, 

r  tliat !" 
,  with   her 
is  first !" 

Jacquetta?" 


^no  day.    It 
'  e  Legisla- 

arose,  too, 


icquetta  De 


THE  END   OF  THE  STORY. 

"  Such  a  mad  marriage  never  was  before." 

— Taming  of  thl:  Shrew. 

HERE  is  but  one  step — a  very  short  one — 
between  love  and  hatred.  In  all  tlicse  years 
of  crime,  and  daring,  and  darkest  guilt,  the 
memory  of  his  lost  child — his  little  bright- 
eyed,  sunny-faced  Lolia  —  had  ever  lain 
warm  and  fair  near  liis  heart;  the  only  fair  spot,  per- 
haps, in  all  that  dark  nature.  He  had  thought,  all 
along,  that  her  mother  had  taken  her  witli  her  in  her 

f'uilty  llight;  but  he  knew  little  of  the  revenge  Grizzle 
lowlet  was  capable  of.  He  never  dreamed  of  doubt- 
ing her  story  for  a  moment — he/c7^  it  to  be  true  every 
word  ;  and  in  that  instant  all  his  love  for  the  little  bright- 
faced  child  was  swept  away,  like  a  Avhiil  of  down  in 
the  blast ;  and  hatred  of  the  daring,  imperious  young 
girl  who  had  conquered  him  took  its  place. 

He  felt  that  she  despised  and  looked  down  upon 
him,  her  father,  although  she  knew  it  not ;  and  a  sav- 
age, demoniacal  longing  to  drag  her  down  to  his  own 
level  lilled  all  his  thoughts.  She  was  his  daughter;  no 
one  had  such  a  right  to  her  as  he  had.  He  hated  the 
De  Veres,  and  this  dashing  adopted  danghter  of  theirs. 
What  a  ijjlorions  thin!»:  it  would  be  now  to  tear  her  from 
them — to  pull  her  from  her  pedestal — to  sliow  her  to 
the  world  as  Captain  Nick  Tempest's  daughter'^  He 
felt  a  little  proud  of  her,  too  ;  he  exulted  in  the  thought 
that  she  had  her  father's  heart,  and  all  his  dauntless 
courage :  and  he  felt  ho  could  freely  forgive  Grizzle 


>  t 


i.r 


mmm 


SBSI 


234 


TUE    END     OP    THE    STOUT. 


'f 


''li't 


N        *! 


II owlet  all  slie  had  done  for  the  revenge  she  liad  placed 
within  his  grasp  now. 

A  licrce,  grim  smile — the  .smile  of  a  demon  bearing 
away  a  lost  soul — broke  over  liis  dark  face.  IJe  looked 
np,  and  met  Grizzle  Ilowkt'ti  piercing  eyes  fixed  full 
upon  him. 

"•  Well  ?"she  said,  curiously. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand,  still  smiling: 

"I  forgive  you,  Grizzle  1  There  is  my  liand  on  it  I 
This  repays  me  for  all." 

"You  believe  me f  she  said. 

"  Yes  ;  I  think  you  nie  telling  me  the  truth.  I  feel 
that  that  o'irl  is  m\  dauii;hter !" 

"  She  is.  AVord  for  word  what  I  have  said  is  true 
— true  as  Gospei.     Jacquetta  De  Vere  is  your  child    ' 

"  The  gods  be  praised  for  that !  The  day  of  retri- 
bution is  at  hand  !"' 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  said  Grizzle,  half 
anxiously. 

He  sat  down,  resumed  his  former  attitude  befoi-e  the 
fire,  with  that  evil  smile  still  on  his  face. 

"  You  will  see !  l>ut,  lirst,  have  you  accomplished 
your  revenge?" 

"  Ko  !"  cried  Grizzle,  liercely  dashing  her  hand  on 
the  mantel — '"no;  that  I  have  not!  Until  Jack  De 
Vere  lies  despised  and  trodden  on  in  the  dust  under  my 
feet,  my  revenge  will  never  be  satiated  !" 

"  What  has  she  done  to  j^ou  to  make  you  hate  her 
60  ?"  said  the  captain,  serenely. 

"  Done  what  I  will  never  forgive,  if  I  were  dying !" 
almost  screamed  the  woman,  her  lion-passions  slipping 
their  leashes  for  a  moment.  ''  I  hated  her,  lirst,  for  her 
mother's  sake — for  her  father's  sake.  I  hated  her  as  a 
child  ;  for  she  never  could  endure  me,  even  when  I  v.'as 
kindest  to  her.  I  hated  her  as  a  girl,  for  her  gibes  and 
taunts.  I  hate  her  as  a  woman,  for  her  scornful  pride 
and  haughty  disdain  ;  and  hate  her  I  will,  to  my  dying 
day." 

"  You  would  have  suited  Doctor  Jolinson.     Wasn't 


THE    END     OF    TUB    STORY. 


285 


it  he  who  liked  a  'p:ood  hater?'  Well,  I  don't  blame 
you.  She  is  a  provukiiii;;  liitlc  miss  as  ever  lived,  I 
have  no  doubt.  So  jiate  away,  my  beauty,  as  lung  as 
you  like,  and  thank  the  Fates  there  is  no  lost  love." 

''  I  hate  the  Do  Yercs,  one  and  all,  with  their  ar- 
rogant })ride  and  supercilious  contempt  for  all  of  in- 
ferior birth,  and  I  svrear  to  make  them  feel  it.  I  have 
done  so.  The  proudest  of  them  all — the  llower  of  the 
flock  lies  crushed  and  bleeding  under  my  feet!  And 
there  let  her  lie  till  the  grave  claims  her!" 

"  Do  you  mean  that  haughty  young  empress,  Lady 
Augusta  !" 

"  Yes.  I  fancy  I  have  settled  her  haui^htiness  for 
her!"  said  the  woman,  with  a  short,  unpleasant  laugh. 

The  ca])tain  looked  curious. 

"  What  has  she  done,  and  how  did  you  get  her  in 
your  power '^  Is  she  an  adopted  daughter,  too'^" 

"Ko  ;  she  is  a  true  De  Yere,  body  and  soul !" 

"Then  what  power  can  you  have  over  her?  There 
is  a  long  step  between  a  I)e  V'ei'e  and  Grizzle  llowlet." 

"  1  have  seven-league  boots,  and  can  take  it.  Never 
you  mind.  Captain  Tempest.  Your  business  is  with 
Miss  Jack,  it'  you  remember.  What  are  you  going  to 
do,  now  that  you  have  found  out  she  is  your  daughter  ?" 

"  Claim  her,  to  be  sure!  Think  of  a  father's  love, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it,  and  you  will  perceive  it  is  the  only 
course,"  said  the  ca[)tain,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Exactly.     But  how  will  you  prove  your  claim  ?" 

"  You  will  come  with  me,  my  dear.  When  you  and 
I  lay  our  heads  together,  we  can  work  wonders." 

"We  will,  in  this  case.  l>ut  have  you  no  curiosity 
to  hear  how  she  cv^er  came  to  live  in  Fontello  at  all,  or 
to  assume  their  name  V 

"  A  great  deal.  Ihit  you  have  a  disagreeable  way  of 
only  answering  questions  when  you  like ;  so  1  did  not 
care  for  getting  a  rebulf." 

'"Then  listen  to  the  sequel.  I  hope  you  will  lind  it 
quite  as  interesting  as  the  tirst  volume,  and  it  will  show 


i.    'lu 


i 


%■ 


iifl 


'?  ::.,,t 


r 


4 


I       I 


r 


I  J 


11 


236 


THE    END     OF     THE    STOBT. 


^1:      ! 


('  ! 


'. 


you  what  a  woman  can  do  when  she  seeks  revenge ;  and 
it  will  clear  up  a  certain  little  mystery  that  has  puzzled 
more  than  one  resident  in  Fontelic  Hall.  Have  you 
ever  been  told  that  strange  sounds  were  sometimes 
heard  in  the  old  north  wing  of  that  building'^" 

"  Of  course.     Push  ahead." 

"  1  rather  fancy  they  have  startled  a  certain  young 
gentleman  resident  there  at  present.  And  that  reminds 
me  you  have  no  particular  love  for  him  either,  llavo 
you  r  ^ 

"  JS^o,  by  Heaven !"  said  the  captain,  with  an  oath. 
"  lie  struck  me  once ;  and  that  is  an  insult  that  only 
his  heart's  blood  can  wipe  out !" 

"  I  think  you  can  pierce  his  heart  in  an  easier  and 
safer  way,  and,  in  fact,  kill  half  a  dozen  birds  with  one 
stone.  If  he  is  not  in  love  with  Miss  Jacquetta  De 
Vere,  then  1  know  nothing  of  the  tender  passion  ;  and, 
being  ns  proud  as  Lucifer,  he  will  be  in  a  sweet  frame 
of  mind  when  he  linds  out  who  she  is.  Besides,  he  is 
engaged  to  another  young  lady.     Guess  wlio  V 

"  How  the  foul  liend  can  I  guess  ?  or  what  do  I 
care  ?" 

"  A  great  deal  if  you  knew  but  all.  The  lady's 
name  is  Miss  Norma  Macdonald." 

"  Macdonald !"  ^ 

"  Yes,^'  said  Grizzle,  with  a  smile ;  "  her  mother's 
name,  I  believe,  was  Mrs.  Lelia  Tempest,  if  you  feel 
any  interest  in  knowing  it." 

The  captain  gave  a  long,  wailing  whistle,  and  fell 
back  in  his  seat. 

"  He  is  engaged  to  marry  her,  and  is  in  love  with 
your  daughter ;  and  our  pretty  Jacqiietta  is  in  love 
with  him.  Oh !  it  is  the  sweetest  kettle  of  lish  all 
through  that  ever  you  heard  of." 

"  And  it  will  be  a  death-blow  to  Don  Monsieur  Sig- 
ner Mustache  Wliiskerando  to  lind  out  he  is  in  love 
with  old  Kick  Tempest's  daughter.  '  I  see,'  said  the 
blind  man.  Tol  de  rol,  de  rol,  de  rol  I"  sang  the  cap- 
tain, delighted. 


i 


i 


and 


1  fell 


love 

dthe 

cap- 


TEE    END     OF    TUE    STOUT. 


237 


"Preserve  your  transports,  my  dear  friend,"  said 
Grizzle,  dryly.  "  Time  enough  lor  them  when  you 
stand  face  to  face  with  the  future  lord  of  Guilford  and 
Earneclill'e.  Kemember,  too,  that  though  the  old  sjMie- 
wife  of  Worcestershire  prophesied  that  '  a  life  would 
be  lost  betwixt  ye,'  she  did  not  say  which  was  to  lose  it. 
So  Captain  Nick  Tem])est  had  better  take  a  fool's 
advice,  and  not  halloo  before  he  is  out  of  the  woods!" 

"  1  don't  fear  him.  Let  him  do  his  worst.  Oh, 
this  is  revenge  indeed!  The  bullet  will  hip  them  all  to 
death — this  come-by-chance  of  Lelia's  as  well  as  the 
rest." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure — he  will  marry  /<<'/•." 

"  But  you  say  he  loves  Jacquetta." 

"  So  he  does ;  but  loving  does  not  alwa3'S  imply 
marriage.  I  had  hojied  for  a  ditl'erent  end  to  the  story, 
but  this  daughter  of  yours  is  made  of  moi-e  sterling 
stuft"  than  her  mother,  and  is  not  to  be  had  for  the  asking. 
Ko ;  the  llonoi'able  Alfred  De  Vere  Uisbrowe  will 
never  marry  her  !  lie  wouldn't  if  he  could,  and  couldn't 
if  he  would." 

"  Two  very  good  reasons.  I  should  like  to  see  this 
daughter  of  Lelia's." 

A  queer  laugh  broke  from.  Grizzle's  lips.  Captain 
Tempest  looked  at  her  in  suprise. 

'•'  Are  you  sure  you  never  have  ?" 

"Ehr 

"  Do  you  really  think  you  have  never  seen  Miss 
Norma  Macdonald  'V 

"  Well,  1  can't  say.  I  may  have  done  so  without 
knowing  it,  whilst  knocking  about  this  jolly  old 
world." 

"  Ah,  just  so  !"  said  Grizzle,  carelessly,  poking  the 
fire.  "  By  the  way,  Capta'n  Tem])est,  where  is  that 
little  Spaniard  you  brought  over  witl.'  you  the  other 
day?" 

"  Now  you  are  olf  on  another  track.  What  the 
demon  makes  you  ask  after  him  'T 


:'• 


1:  ''' 


1\ 


f: !  % 


ti 


r 


u 


v.. 


■  \   , 


^ 


L;i 


t. 


I      I 


% 


i    '     'i 


■'■MiM 


Ut' 


ir 


:4? 


fi 


h''. 


;!' 


■I , 


238  THE    END     OF     TUE    ST  OUT. 

"  Oil,  nothing !  I  felt  curious  to  know — that's 
all." 

"  "Well,  lio's  at  Fontcllc,  if  I  don't  mistake.  I 
winged  liini  that  evening  I  met  my  dutiful  daugliter, 
in  mistal'ic  for  our  young  English  frieud — poor  little 
devil !  1  felt  sorry  for  it,  too,  for  I  really  liked  the 
little  codger." 

"  And  so  they  took  him  to  Fontellc — him  !"  said 
Grizzle,  with  a  nuising  smile. 

"There  ! — never  mind  him  ! — push  along  !  I  want 
to  hear  about  Jaccpietta!"  said  Captain  Kick,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Well,  all  these  things  are  so  merged  into  one 
another,  that  it  is  dillicult  to  separate  them.  1  will 
try,  however.  I  need  not  reuiiud  you  that  Jacquettii 
was  six  years  old  when  her  mother  made  her  mooii- 
light  Hitting." 

"I  am  not  likely  to  ferget  it.     Go  on."   " 

"Well,  she  lived  with  me  until  she  was  thirtec  ti 
years  of  age ;  and  1  took  good  care  to  impress  on  her 
memory  the  fact  of  her  mother's  disgrace,  and — if  you 
will  believe  it — child  as  she  was,  she  felt  it  keenlv.  Of 
her  father,  1  never  told  her  'inytliing.  I  left  that  for 
the  gentleuian  himself." 

"And  quite  equal  he  is  to  the  task.    "Well?" 

"  SliG  was  a  pretty  little  thiug — small  and  light, 
like  a  fairy,  with  a  laugh  like  a  bird's  song,  sweet  and 
clear ;  short,  Hashing,  dancing  curls — red,  like  her 
father's,  but  very  nice  indeed  ;  bright,  sparkling,  dark- 
gray  eyes,  and  a  dainty,  delicate,  pink-and-white  com- 
plexion. I  took  care  of  her  beauty,  for  a  reason  1  had 
of  my  own,  and  cared  for  it  every  day,  as  a  miser  might 
for  his  money." 

"  You  old  wretch  !"  said  the  captain,  with  a  look  of 
disgust. 

"  tShc  was  willful,  fearless,  bold,  and  stubborn,  after 
her  own  way — her  father's  child  in  every  sense  of  the 
word.  Once  she  put  her  foot  down  to  do  a  thing,  you 
might  as  well  try  to  move  the  Highlands  over  there,  as 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


239 


that  small  girl.  She  was  'cute,  too,  and  wondcrfnlly 
wide-awake  for  her  years — keen  as  a  Venetian  stiletto, 
and  surprisingly  smart  at  learning  :  so  I  liave  my  doubts 
whether  or  not  I  would  have  succeeded — thougli,  thanks 
to  my  training,  she  had  refreshingly  vague  i^leas  of 
right  and  wrong.  In  some  ways,  she  was  Ukea  woman, 
witli  all  a  woman's  sense,  even  at  that  eai-ly  age;  and  in 
others  she  was  as  simple  as  a  child  of  three  years. 
Ilowlet  was  dead,  and  my  boys  were  away  with  Till ; 
and  I  carefully  kept  Miss  Jacquetta  from  all  masculino 
eyes  till  the  proper  time  came.  Kit  loved  her;  for  slio 
had  the  wildest  and  most  winning  ways,  when  in  good 
humor,  that  ever  a  fairy  had ;  but  she  only  lauglied  at 
him,  and  nicknamed  him  and  herself  Ijeauty  and  the 
Beast,  Bluebeard  and  I'atima,  lied  Kiding-llood  and  tho 
"Wolf,  Vulcan  and  Venus,  and  other  Hattering  and  com- 
plimentary titles."' 

"  Good  girl.  Jack  !"  lauglied  Captain  Nick.  "  Her 
father's  daughter,  indeed  !    She  knew  what  was  what !" 

"Kit's  love  soon  turned  to  hate — as  yours  did,  also, 
a  little  while  ago  ;  and  I  believe  he  would  have  throttled 
her  at  times,  if  I  would  have  let  him.  But  I  had 
better  designs  on  the  young  lady  than  killing  her,  and 
an  opportunity  soon  came  for  putting  them  into  execu- 
tion." 

"Well?" 

"Ilave  you  ever  heard  the  name  of  Aubrey  De 
Vere  ?" 

"  Not  as  I  know  of.     Who  was  he  f 

"  A  son  of  Mr.  Eobert  De  Vere,  of  Fontelle." 

"  What ! 

"  Ah,  he  had,  tliough- 

"  Well  ?" 

"Aubrey  was  the  eldest — tali  and  handsome,  as  all 
of  his  race  arc — but  Nature,  though  she  gifted  him 
with  wealth  and  beauty,  gave  him  also  a  slight  draw- 
back, in  the  shape  of  madness ;  for  there  were  times 
when  the  young;  man  was  a  raving  furious  maniac." 

"  Phew  I     That  was  a  drawback,  upon  my  word  1' 


I  thought  he  had  no  sons." 
•two." 


|5> 


^^H    f 


*> 


:   I 


4 


t  .ll 


I 


■  ) 


1 1  4' 


I 


.    .-^-Ur 


240 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


ti "' 


*'Some  friglit  or  shock  lie  liad  received  in  his  boy- 
hood was  the  cause ;  and  there  were  intervals  still 
wlicn  he  was  perlectly  sane.  Tlie  family  could  always 
tell  when  one  of  his  violent' paroxysms  were  comini!^ 
on,  in  rather  a  pecuh'ar  way.  From  childhood  he  had 
ever  been  passionately  fond  of  music,  but  ever  since 
the  loss  of  his  reason  he  never  touched  a  nmsical  in- 
strument except  when  the  furious  outbreaks  were 
approachini^.  Then  he  would  sit  down  at  the  origan — 
his  favorite  instrument — and  play  as  no  man  in  his 
sober  senses  ever  played  before.  His  friends  kept  him 
confined,  generally;  but  there  were  times  when,  with 
the  cunning  of  madness,  he  would  escape;  and  so 
sanely  could  he  talk  and  act,  that  no  one,  except  those 
who  knew,  would  ever  suspect  him  of  not  being  sane." 
"Not  an  uncouunon  case,"  said  the  captain.  "I 
have  often  heard  of  similar  ones  before," 

"I  knew  all  the  i)articulars.  I  hoard  it  from  an 
old  servant  in  the  house ;  so  that,  when  one  stormy 
night  he  came  to  my  house  (we  lived  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Hudson  then),  I  knew  him  at  once,  and  made 
him  welcome  to  stav  as  long  as  he  liked ;  for  he  had 
plenty  of  money  and  knew  how  to  spend  it.  Here  he 
saw  Jacquetta,  and  fell  in  love  with  her,  as  only  a  mad- 
man can  love." 

"Well,  and  the  result?" 

"The  result  was  a  marriage.  She  liked  him  well 
enough,  and  had  a  mighty  vague  idea  of  what  marriage 
was ;  and  he  was  craz}"  after  her.  Oh  I  it  was  a  capital 
revenge!  marrying  her  to  a  madman,  whose  family 
would  cast  her  oil:  with  scorn,  as  if  she  were  the  dirt 
under  their  feet." 

"  You  were  a  little  out  of  yom*  reckoning  there, 
though, "  said  the  captain,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Yes.  I  am  glad  of  it  now,  though,  ^incc  a  pros- 
pect of  more  exquisite  revenge  has  oj^ened  itself. 
Jacquetta  was  a  child,  then,  and  had  no  idea  of  what 

it  1  knew  she  would  awake  on^ 


*o  > 


i^Jj 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


241 


h\ 

:cU 


}1V, 

Iros- 

lelf. 

rliat 

lay, 


and  then  there  would  bo  a  scene !     IIow  I  [j^louted  in 
the  prospect!     How  I  exulted  when  it  ciiinc  I" 


&•• 


-  It  did 


th 


come, 

''To  be  sure — but  ii  lon<^  while  alter.  1  don't  know 
whether  it  was  his  new-luund  iiappinoss,  or  what,  but 
Aubrey  De  Vere  was  sane  a  lon^  time  after  that,  and 
remained  enchanted  with  his  new  toy — though  his 
willful  baby-wife  i^ot  dreadfully  tired  of  liim  some- 
times. I  could  always  tell  when  his  insane  tits  were 
coinins^  on,  and  smu^-gled  him  ofE  to  an  upper  room, 
and  left  him  bolted  and  barred  in  till  they  passed 
away  ;  and  she  knew  nothing  of  them.  It  was  not  the 
time  to  tell  her  yet,  though  it  was  daily  coming ;  for 
the  woman's  heart  within  her — like  plants  in  a  hot- 
liouse,  prematurely  forced — was  ra})idly  maturing,  even 
tliough  the  breast  that  bore  it  barely  numbered  four- 
teen summers. 

''But  one  unluckv  d;r,  during  a  brief  absence  of 
mine  to  the  city,  ho  broku  out  into  one  of  his  furious 
outbursts  of  temporary  madness,  and  raved,  and  foamed, 
and  tied,  like  one  possessed  by  a  thousand  devils,  from 
the  liouse.  The  shock — the  amaze,  the  horror  was  too 
much  for  her — fearless  as  she  was.  When  I  came 
back  I  found  her  lying  senseless  on  the  floor,  and  hours 
passed  before  she  awoke  from  that  death-like  swoon." 

"AV^elir'  said  the  captain,  as  Grizzle  paused. 

"  There  was  a  child  born  that  night,  and  the  baby- 
wife  was  a  mother.  The  demon  only  knows  what  feeling 
prompted  me  to  conceal  the  infant,  but  I  did;  a  poor, 
miserable,  puny  thing  it  was  ;  and  when  she  recovered, 
she  believed  what  1  told  her  of  its  sudden  death, 
iilaize  and  Kit  had  lately  purchased  this  very  house  ; 
and  I  had  it  conveyed  here,  and  piiid  a  woman  for 
takinti^  care  of  it.  That  woman  was  Tribulation  Kaw- 
bones,  now  a  servant  in  Fontelle. 

"AVell,  Jacquetta  recovered,  and  so  did  her  Irus- 
band.  Strangely  enough,  he  had  gone  to  Fontelle  in 
his  lirst  outbreak  ;  and  from  his  ravings,  they  guessed 
what  had  Itappened.     When  he  became  sane  again,  he 

11 


,  (.,: 


•     1 


\ 


\^^ 


I  'II 


Ha 


■mam 


243 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


..I''i 


I  '' 


in 


I- 1'. 


would  liav^e  denied  it ;  but  liis  fiitlicr  followed  him  to 
my  house,  and  learned  all  the  particulars.  Of  course, 
there  was  a  pretty  to-do,  then;  and  the  old  gentleman 
was.  like  one  beside  himself  with  grief  and  rage.  Jac- 
quetta  was  a  perfect  Httle  fury,  and  would  have  sprang 
on  me  and  clawed  me  like  a  wild-cat,  only  1  lied  from 
the  room.  Howl  laughed!  how  I  enjoyed  it!  how 
delicious  it  was !"  She  laughed  again  at  the  recollec- 
tion. 

"  You  second  Jezebel !"  said  the  captain. 


"  They  all  calmed  down  again  after  awhile,  and  began 
to  reiiect  it  was  no  use  crying  for  spilled  milk.  C)f 
course,  Mr.  De  V  re  would  'lave  nothing  to  do  w'itli 
Jaccpietta.  Oh  no!  not  at  all !  lie  pooh-poohed  tho 
notion  ;  said  the  marriage  was  null  and  illegal,  and 
carried  oif  his  son  ])v  force.  The  i^-irl  of  ht'teen  was  as 
proud  in  her  way  as  the  stately  old  Englishnum  was  in 
his.  She  let  him  go  without  a  word,  and  never  again 
breathed  the  subject  to  me  ;  but  oh  !  the  delightful 
look  Siio  used  to  favor  me  with — the  little  kite  heart!" 

''-  Well  V 

"  Mr.  Robert  Do  Vere  soon  found  he  had  reckoned 
without  his  host,  when  he  thought  ho  could  get  his  son 
to  give  up  his  little  bride.  He  became  perfectly  un- 
governable, raved,  foamed,  shrieked  like  a  wild  beast, 
and  called  on  Jacquetta  night  and  day.  In  fact,  there 
was  no  standing  him  at  all,  and  nothing  renuiined  but 
to  send  for  Jaccpietta." 

"  And  vou  let  her  go'f 

"  Of  course.  I  knew  my  own  interests.  So  proud 
was  she,  that  she  would  not  have  went  a  step  with  him, 
only  out  of  pity  for  Aubrey.     But  go  she  did  at  last." 

"  And  that  is  how  she  came  to  live  at  Fontelie  i" 

"  That  is  how.  Her  presence  soothed  him  at  once  ; 
and,  strange  to  say,  she  and  Miss  Augusta,  then  a 
haughty  little  lady  of  ten  years,  became  fast  friends. 
She  had,  as  I  told  you,  winning  ways,  and  cast  a  spell 
over  every  one  she  mot  by  a  sort  of  vvdld  fascination 


kk 


n 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


243 


tUtful 
irtl" 

oncd 
is  son 
y  un- 
eiist, 
there 
lid  but 


proud 
l\  liim, 
lust." 

once ; 

It  hell  a 

rieiids, 

a  Bpell 

uatiou 


about  licr,  and  very  soon  she  beeaine  tlie  idol  of  tlie 
houseliold,  and  almost  as  dear  to  tiie  master  of  lonteile 


as  1 


lis  own  dauii'hter.'^ 
So  mueh  tlie  better  I    They   will  I'eel  the  part in< 


with  lier  the  more 


'  liiirht !  !So  they  will.     Mr.  Do  Vere  did  not  care 


o 


to  piihlisli  on  the  house-tops  that  he  had  a  son  a  Jiiaiiiac  ; 
and  as  his  paroxysms  of  madness  were  liecomini::  daily 
more  frequent  and  violent,  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  old 
deserted  nortli  winu^  was  httedup  with  barred  windows 
and  l)oUc'd  doors,  and  he  was  conlined  there.  Old 
Tribiiiat'.on,  a  woman  of  iron  heart  and  nerves,  became 
his  nurse,  and  everytlilng'  that  could  make  liim  com- 
fortable was  given  him.  Even  liis  fondness  for  music 
was  thought  of,  and  his  organ  was  placed  in  his  room, 
and  remains  there  to  this  day  ;  and  before  his  fiercest 
attacks,  he  still  favors  tliem  with  a  little  unearthly 
music — most  fre(piently  at  the  dead  of  night." 

"And  that  accounts  tor  the  strange  noises,"  said 
the  captain,  nuisingly. 

"Yes.  As  it  woidd  have  excited  curiosity  and  in- 
quiry to  call  Jacquetta  J//".s*.  De  Yere,  the  change  to 
Miss  was  very  easy  and  convenient ;  and  as  few  visitors 
called  at  Fontelle,  repelled  by  the  pride  of  the;  aristo- 
cratic JJe  Yeres,  j)C(>|)le  believed  readily  enough  she 
was  his  youngei'  daughter,  for  sIk;  looks  several  years 
younger  than  Augusta — small,  fair  ])eoj)le  always  do 
look  younger  than  they  are.  And  so — and  so — she  has 
lived  there  ever  since  ;  and—  that's  all." 

"  And  enough,  by  Jupiter!  And  so  V\n  a  grand- 
papa— am  1  i  Good  gracious  !  1  say,  Griz/le,  where's 
the  child  V 

She  laughed  and  continued  stirring  the  lire. 

"llow  dumb  you  are  1  Think  a  moment." 

'^'  Eh ?  Why— what  i     It's  not  little  Orrie— is  it  ?" 

She  nodded. 

"  O  Jehosophat !  here's  a  mare's  nest !  And  littlo 
black-eyes  is  a  granddaughter  of  mine!" 

"  She  has  that  honor." 


I'll 


H 


f    :     )i 


1   'Itj 

it     I        ' 


■\ 


t      I 


'! 


j: 


i 


i-   I 


ill 


! 


KfflKi 


sgs 


:sif 


«■■ 


•  Ji 


!  "i^: 


au 


TEE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


)>    -i 


!■  I 


it 


"Whew!  What  will  wo  hear  next?  And  Jao- 
quetta  does  not  suspect  V^ 

"  I  don-t  know.     I  half  think  she  does,  sometimes." 

"  She  would  claim  her,  if  she  did." 

"  No.  She  knows  it  would  be  of  no  use.  I  could 
keep  her  in  spite  of  her  She  bears  a  shadowy  resem- 
blance to  lier  mother,  and  has  the  same  Hery  temper, 
and  the  true  De  Vere  face." 

"  And  so  she's  a  De  Vere,  too." 

"  Yes — and  the  heiress  of  Fontelle  ?" 

"•  Well,  this  is  something  new.  Do  you  mean  to 
make  this  known  as  well  as  the  rest  ?" 

"  Most  decidedly." 

"  But  what  is  the  end  of  all  this  ?  It  may  mortify 
them  to  know  I  am  her  father  ;  but  they  will  not  cast 
her  olf  on  that  account." 

"  Trust  me  for  that.  I  will  see  Mr.  De  Vere  ;  and 
when  1  tell  him  Jacquetta  knew  everything  I  have  told 
you  all  along,  and  artfully  concealed  it,  you  will  see 
what  n,  change  it  will  make.  You  don't  know  yet  how 
haughty  these  Do  Veres  can  be.  Let  him  once  learn 
what  her  mother  was,  and  that  Jacquetta  herself  knew 
it  all  along,  although  she  denied  it,  and  he  would  order 
her  out  in  live  minutes.  He  might  get  over  the  dis- 
graceful stock  from  which  she  sprung,  but  her  own 
deceit  never." 

"Bravo  !  And  then  Madam  Jacquetta  will  have  to 
march !" 

"Brecisely!  Oh.  I'll  fix  her !  Then,  as  her  father, 
you  can  claim  her,  you  know  " 

"But  what  if  she  won't  be  claimed?  There's  a 
small  spice  of  the  devil  in  that  young  lady,  and  it  may 
temjit  her  to  act  ugly  and  cut  up  shines." 

"  What  can  she  do  ?  She  can  neither  work  nor  starve. 
And  her  child  will  tie  her  liands.  It  needsonly  a  word 
to  (!on\  ince  her  the  child  is  hers.  Jt  will  humiliate  her 
to  death,  and  Disbrowe's  love  will  go  out  under  the 
blow,  like  a  candle  under  an  uxtinguishor." 

"  Good  !    And  then  '<" 


i,t     I 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


245 


\ 


"  Yow  can  treat  as  lier  as  you  please." 

"  By  Jove !  I'll  treat  her  well,  for  she's  a  littlo 
brick,"  cried  the  captain,  enthusiastically. 

"  You  forpjet  she  cun(pierecl  you." 

"I'll  forgive  her  that,  once  I  j^et  her.  I've  <.T0t 
money  euou,'!;h  ;  and  hy  tlie  Lord  Harry,  she  and  Miss 
Orrie  sliall  live  like  a  couple  of  ladies." 


"  You're  a  fool !     She'll  never  own  you." 

"Wait  till  you  see.  I  don't  believe  little  Leila 
can  liave  cluniged  so.  But  look  here,  old  lady  ;  you 
told  nie  De  Vere  had  two  sous — where's  the  other  i" 

"Oh,  Ileaveu  knows  !  Dead,  I  expect!  lie  was 
carried  oil  by  ludiaus  when  a  child,  and  never  heard  of 
more." 

"  AVell,  it's  astonishing  how  things  turnup.  A\\^ 
80  my  precious  son-in-law  is  locked  up  in  the  old  north 
tower  of  Fontelle  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  Tribulation  has  her  hands  full  to  look 
after  him.  They  can  always  tell  when  he  is  getting 
violent  by  his  })laying,  and  then  Jacquetta  has  to  go  to 
him.  She  is  the  only  one  he  will  nund  at  such  times. 
She  locks  him  uj)  and  leaves  him  by  himself,  until  he 
sees  tit  to  be  reasonable  again  ;  then  he  is  released.  It 
mostly  happens  in  the  dead  of  night,  and  the  little  lady 
has  an  uneasy  time  of  it  getting  out  of  bed  to  see  after 
him.     Tribulation  always  clears  on  such  occasions." 

"  And  wh.cn  is  this  delightful  story  to  electrify  your 
friends  at  Fontelle  V 

"  To-morrow  morning." 

"  Am  I  to  go  with  you  2" 

"Most  certainly — to  claim  3'our  daughter." 

"lia  !  ha!  Won't  there  be  a  scene  {  1  shan't  sleep 
a  wink  to-night  for  thinking  of  it." 

"  Well,  go  now!     I  am  done  with  you." 

"A  curt  dismissal!  Look  here,  Grizzle,  I  should 
like  to  see  Orrie  before  I  leave." 


Bah  !     What  do  you  want  to  see  her  for  i!" 

Well,   knowing    that  she   is    my   grauv.   '  'Id,    it 


'  fr't! 


'    ii 


lit.;'- 


U.; 


'  I 


J     ! 


I, 


ii'  ' 


:t 


!,.i    ! 


\i 


<  I 


1 


"gl- 


246 


THE    END     OF    THE    STORY. 


m 


1i!  i, 


A     I 


'M. 


'j'l  'il 


strikes  me  I  bIiouIcI  like  to  take  a  good  look  at  her. 
Come,  okl  friend,  be  ^ood-natiired,  and  lead  the  way." 

"Stull!     Tiie  chiid\s  asleep." 

"  I  won't  awake  her — I  "won't  stay  a  moment." 

"  x^ick  Tempest,  you're  a  fool !"  said  the  woman, 
harshly,  as  she  arose  and  took  a  eandle.  "Come,  then, 
willful  must  have  his  way." 

"  En  avant,  itia  chere  /"  said  the  captain,  jocsoely. 
"I  follow." 

She  led  the  way  up  stairs,  and  opened  the  door  of  an 
empty  little  room,  containing  no  furniture  but  a  straw- 
pallet  in  a  little  truckle-bed.  The  child  lay  stretched 
out — her  black  hair  strewn  about  her,  her  hands  clasped 
over  her  head;  her  small  face,  in  its  repose,  bearing 
striking  marks  of  her  paternity. 

Shading  the  light  with  his  hand.  Captain  Nick  bent 
over  her,  but  he  started  back  the  next  instant ;  for  the 
great,  black,  goblin  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  piercing 
him  like  needles. 

"  You  nasty  old  thing!  What  are  you  doing  here? 
Get  out!"  said  Orrie, sitting  up  in  bed  and  brandishing 
the  pillow,  as  the  only  defensive  weapon  at  hand. 

"  Oh,  you're  awake — are  you  ?"  said  Captain  Nick. 
"  Why,  Orrie,  don't  you  know  me — Uncle  Nick  ?" 

"Unci';  Nick!"  said  the  child,  contemptuously. 
"  You  ain't !  1  wouldn't  have  you  for  an  uncle !  Will 
you  go  away  T' 

"  She's  iicr  mother's  daughter !"  said  Grizzle,  with 
a  grim  smile. 

''  Clear  out !"  repeated  Orrie,  clutching  the  pillow, 
"  or  I'll  heave  this  at  you  !" 

"  You  little  angel,"  said  the  captain,  apostrophizing 
her  in  a  low  tonx3.  "  What  a  blessed  little  sera])h  sho 
is,  Grizzle  !" 

"  Come  away,"  said  Grizzle.  "  I  hope  you  are  satis- 
fied with  your  reception." 

"Perfectly!     Good-night,  Orrie." 

Orrie's  reply  to  this  piece  of  politeness  was  an  an- 


THE    END     OF    TEE    ST0R7. 


247 


fjry  scowl,  as  she  still  sat  tlircatcningly  holding  the  pil- 
ow,  until  the  door  closed  after  them. 

"  She  does  look  like  the  De  Veres,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. 

"  And  is  blessed  with  her  mother's  dove-like  tem- 
per, and  her  maternal  i^^randparent's  gentleness.  Come 
back  early  to-morrow  nu^rning.    Are  you  ready  to  go  V 

"  Yes  ;  if  I  must  go.  JJut  as  1  have  to  return  here 
to-morrow,  could  you  not  acconnnodatc  me  with  a  shake- 
down before  the  lire  for  this  night  V 

"  No.  I  can  do  no  such  thing.  I  don't  want  you. 
There,  be  off  !"'^ 

"  You  hospitable  old  soul !     Well,  good-night !" 

"Good-niglit,"  said  the  woman,  in  pretty  much  the 
same  tone  as  if  it  were  a  curse  she  sent  after  him  ;  and 
then  the  door  was  bolted,  and  Grizzle  Ilowlet  was  in 
and  Nick  Tempest  was  out,  tramping  back  to  the  Mer- 
id  musing  intently  on  all  he  had  heard  that 


n 


ight. 


rr' 


;;i1- 


H: 


ri!« 


i:.  y  ! 


,  J 


!.) 


! 


\  ;•  r  il 


'II 


')     K 


I      1 


J 


r  n 


N  1 


I    1    ! 
1    i 


\ 


:l 


I !  i 


II; 


1 


i 


i.f 


>  1 


.:1 


248 


^     Tr0if4iV'5    NATURE. 


CHAPTER  XVIIl. 

A  wojian's  nature. 

"I  am  a  woman — nay.  a  woman  wronged  1 
And  wlien  our  sex  from  injuries  tiikc  lire, 
Our  softness  turns  to  fury,  and  our  thoughts 
Breathe  vengeance  and  destruction." 

—Savage. 

HE  loud  ririirni2r  of  the  brcalvfast-bcU  was 
the  tirst  tliiiii^  tliat  awoke  Captain  Alfred 
Disbfowe  on  the  inoriiiii£^  of  his  departure. 
For  hours  after  his  jiartini;  with  Jacquetta, 
he  had  paeed  up  and  down  his  room,  too 
miserable  and  an^ry  to  go  to  bed ;  and  it  was  only 
when  the  sky  began  to  grow  red  in  the  east  that  he  had 
flung  himself  down,  dressed  and  all,  and  dropped  into 
a  feverish  shmiber. 

He  awoke  with  a  strange  feeling  of  loneliness  and 
heaviness  of  heart,  and  it  was  some  minutes  before  he 
could  call  to  mind  tiie  cause.  Tiien  it  came  back  to 
him  with  a  shock  and  a  thrill,  that  this  was  the  last 
morning  he  would  ever  spend  in  Fontelle — the  last 
time  he  would  ever  see  Jacquetta.  There  was  an  in- 
expressible bitterness  in  the  thought,  now  that  the 
excitement  of  the  previous  night  had  passed  away ;  and 
he  dropped  his  head  on  his  hand  with  something  like  a 
groan.  Her  imago  was  l)efore  him,  bright,  i)iquant. 
radiant — the  slight,  fairy  form  ;  the  small,  tantalizing, 
bewitching  face;  the  laughing,  mocking,  dark-gray 
eyes;  the  sau(;y,  provoking  smile  ;  the  round,  polished, 
boyish  forehead;  the  short,  Hashing,  dancing  curls,  tliat 
shone  before  his  eyes,  now,  as  the  most  charming  curls 
in  existence;  the  whole  spirited, daring,  sparkling  little 
countenance  of  the  intoxicating  little  siren,  all  arose,  lis 


A     ^Y0MAN'8    NATURE. 


249 


"! 


if  to  madden  him,  in  their  most  bewildering  array.  He 
looked  lip  at  tlie  smiling  eyes  and  sweet,  l)eautii'nl 
lips  of  the  portrait  above  him,  and  remembered  he  iiad 
lost  it  all.  Again  his  head  dropped,  and  a  cry  that 
would  not  be  repressed  broke  from  his  lips; 

"O  Jacquetta!  my  love!  my  life!  my  dream  I 
This — this  is  what  I  have  lost !" 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  lie  lifted  his  head, 
brushed  back  the  heavy  locks  of  his  falling  hair,  and 
said : 

"  Come  in." 

Frank  entered.  It  reminded  Disbrowe  of  the  first 
day  of  his  arrival,  wdien  he  had  paid  him  a  similar 
visit.  IIow  short  a  time  had  elapsed  since  then  !  and 
yet  it  had  transformed  his  whole  life.  • 

"Why,  Cousin  Alfred,  what's  the  matter?"  said 
Frank.     "  You  look  like  a  ghost." 

"  I  did  not  sleep  well  last  night,"  said  Disbrowe, 
glancing  languidly  in  the  glass,  and  starting  to  see  the 
pale  face  it  reliected.  "  Was  that  the  breakfast-bell 
rang  just  now  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  as  yon  are  generally  dowm  so  early  in 
the  morning,  I  thought  perhai)s  you  had  taken  a  notion 
to  run  otf  in  the  night,  being  so  late  this  morning. 
Yon  didn't  turn  in  with  your  clothes  on,  did  you  ? 
They  look  as  if  you  had  been  sleeping  in  them  a 
week." 

"I  believe  I  did,"  said  Disbrowe,  smiling  faintly. 
"  I  was  up  until  daybreak.  Are  my  uncle  and  cousins 
down  stairs  V 

There  was  a  vague  hope  at  his  heart  that  he  might 
see  Jacquetta  again,  in  spite  of  what  she  had  told  him ; 
and  he  listened  eagerly  for  Frank's  answer. 

"  No,"  said  that  young  gentleman.  "  Jack's  gone. 
She  was  off  this  morning  for  a  ten  mile  ride,  to  visit 
one  of  those  poor  laborers,  who  got  both  his  legs 
crushed  to  pieces  last  evening — jioor  fellow!  hjlio 
would  have  went  last  night,  1  believe,  only  Lightning 
had  lost  a  shoe." 

11* 


•  ■ 


i" 


Va 
ii 
■  1 


'  I 


11 


I   I 
1  I 


:^ 


♦ ' 


• 


f  I 


\ " 


ii         '  «     -IT-  ■-    - 


'111  'h 


250 


A     WO.VAN'S    NATURE. 


f    ^, 


*        !f 


!i') 


"With  a  sickeiiiuii;  focllu/:^  of  disappointment,  Dis- 
browG  iiro>G  and  proceeded  to  arrange  Ids  disordered 
dress  and  hnisli  his  disheveled  liair.  So  intense  and 
bitter  was  the  sensation,  that  it  was  some  moments 
before  lie  eoiikl  trnst  liimself  to  speak. 

"Jack's  a  regular  guanhaii-angel  to  one-half  these 
})Oor  ])e()ple,''  contimied  Frank,  now,  as  ever,  disposed 
to  sing  the  praises  of  liis  favorite,  and  (piite  unconscious 
that  every  word  of  praise  was  Hke  u  dagger  to  the 
heart  of  his  cousin.  "  lx>t  lier  liear  of  an  accident, 
even  though  it  sliould  he  lifty  miles  olf,  and  if  siie 
thought  slie  could  be  of  the  least  service,  she  would  be 
up  and  olf  in  a  twiidcling,  in  s])ite  of  wind  and  weather. 
I  remember  once,  when  the  tyj)hus  fever  was  raging 
at  Green  Creek,  and  carrying  olf  the  people  ])j  scores, 
she  established  herself  as  nurse-general,  and  scarcely 
took  time  to  sleep  or  eat,  but  went  from  cottage  to 
cottage,  night  and  day.  Uncle  told  her  she  was  mad, 
and  tried  to  prevail  on  her  not  to  risk  her  life ;  ijut  she 
wouldn't  listen  to  him  a  moment.  Her  duty  lay  there, 
she  saitl,  and  there  she  must  be.  For  over  four  months, 
she  never  came  to  Fontelie,  for  fear  of  bringing  the 
contagion ;  and  I  do  believe  she  saved  the  life  of  one- 
half  the  poor  people  there.  Uncle  gave  her  plenty  of 
money;  and,  by  (xeorge  I  if  she  didn't  spend  it!" 

"And  did  she  escape  herself  C 

"  Oh,  no !  she  took  it  when  almost  everj^body  else 
was  well ;  but  she  recovered  again.  Her  hair  all  fell 
out,  too,  and  it  has  never  grown  long  since." 

"And  this  is  what  I  have  lost,"  again  thought  Dis- 
browe,  in  bitterness  of  spirit.  "  lids  is  the  girl  I  have 
called  heartless — this  entrancing  fairv,  with  the  heart 
of  a  hero  and  an  angel!  Oh,  Jac(pietta !  what  have  I 
done  that  I  should  lose  you  ^" 

"  What  is  the  matter  f  said  Frank,  curiously. 
"  Something  more  than  a  bad  night's  rest,  I'll  be  bound  I 
You  look  as  if  you  had  lost  your  best  friend." 

"  So  1  have !"  said  Disbrowe,  passionately. 


(    4 


A     W02IAIi'S    NATURE. 


251 


ing 


"  Eh  ?  what  ?  Whj,  Cousin  Alfred,  is  Lord  Earne- 
cliffe  dead  ?" 

"  Kot  as  I  know  of.     I  liope  not." 

"  Then  what  the — I  thought  lie  was,  by  your  say- 
■       that." 

"Tsever  mind,  Frank  ;  yon  are  five  years  too  young 
to  understand  wliat  I  mean.  Heaven  grant  you  never 
may  n.  lerstand  it !" 

Frank  looked  at  him  an  instant  with  a  peculiar 
smile,  and  then  began  to  whittle,  with  piercing  em- 
phasis, the  grand  m^iU'ch  in  "  Norma."  Disl)rowe  paused 
in  his  occupation,  and  looked  at  him  a  moment  with  a 
singular  expression. 

'"'  You,  too,  Frank,"  he  said,  with  a  sliglit  smile ; 
"  are  you  in  the  secret,  too  f 

"  What  secrete"  said  Fraidv,  with  a  look  of  innocent 
unconsciousness.  "  Don't  understand,  Captain  Uis- 
browe.     I'm  five  years  too  young  to  know  any  secrets." 

Captain  Disbrowe  returned  to  his  toilet. 

"  I  forgot  you  were  a  Yankee,  and  consequently 
wide-awake.  IJas  Jacquetta" — his  face  flushed  as  he 
uttered  her  name — "told  you  anvthinjj^i" 

"No.  What  would  she  tell  me  ^  I  don't  under- 
stand you  at  all,  Cousin  Alfred." 

Frank's  look  of  resolute  simplicity  was  refreshing  to 
see.     Disbrowe  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  You  understand  well  enough.     Out  with  it  1" 

"  Well,  then,  I  know  you're  in  love  with  our  Jack," 
blurted  out  Master  Frank,  thrusting  both  hands  in  his 
pockets.  "  All  of  my  own  knowledge,  too,  if  I  am 
live  years  too  3'oung  to  know  anything." 

Evidently,  youth  was  a  sore  spot  with  Frank,  like 
all  boys  ambitious  to  be  thought  men.  Disbi'owe's 
face  grew  crimson  one  moment  and  whiter  than  ever 
the  next,  lie  went  on  dressing  without  speaking  a 
word,  and  Frank,  evidently  possessed  by  some  spirit  of 
evil,  continued,  undauntedly  : 

"  And  1  know  she  refused  you,  too — you  and  your 
coronet,  Captain  Disbrowe,  as  she  has  many  a  bet — an- 


I 

'  '1 


I 


■i. 


■'f^ 


'■  • 


J  i  1' 


'.■'-: 


252 


A     WOMAN'S    NATVItE. 


\   i 


m 


'■' 


^  ;.(  *!i 


ill: 


\  \'4 


':i 


'\ 


Ml' 


I' ■  I,' 

1'!  \ 


other  man.  Oli,  our  Jack's  not  to  be  liad  for  a  word,  I 
can  tell  jou  !  The  man  that  gets  her  must  do  somo- 
tliing  more  tlian  i)ay  her  comi^iimeiits,  or  give  her 
flowers,  or  say  sweet  things  hy  moonlight." 

''  What  must  he  duiJ  Take  lance  and  shield,  and 
ride  forth,  booted  and  spurred,  like  a  second  JJon 
Quixote,  in  search  of  adventures;  conquer  a  lieiy  drag- 
on, or  rescue  some  hapless  princess  from  the  enchanted 
castle  of  some  gigantic  ogre  C  said  Disbrowe,  between 
anger  and  sarcasin. 

''  Yes,  sir-ee !"  exclaimed  Frank,  deiiantly.  "  If 
such  things  were  to  Ijedone  now,  the  man  that  would  lay 
claim  to  her  pretty  little  hand  would  have  to  prove  his 
knighthood  l)el"ore  he  would  kneel  at  her  footstool.  As 
it  is,  the  man  that  comes  after  her  will  have  to  mind  his 
Ps  and  Qs  before  he  gets  her  ;  for  Jack  De  Vere  is  no 
conmion  milk-and-water  young  lady,  but  worth  half  the 
women  in  the  world — queens  and  princesses  included — 
rolled  into  one." 

"  That  is  all,  doubtless,  very  true,"  said  Disbrowe, 
with  a  curling  lip  ;  "■  but  I  fancy  I  know  some  one 
who — " 

lie  paused  abruptl}',  and  bit  his  lip. 

"  Oh,  you  may  go  on.  1  know  who  you  mean. 
You  thiidv  she's  in  love  with  Jacinto — don't  you'^"  said 
Frank,  sarcastically. 

"  Itcally,  Master  Fraidc,  you  seem  in  a  «atecliising 
mood  this  morning,"  said  Disbrowe,  facing  round  and 
fixing  his  dark  eyes  full  upon  him.  ''  Supposing  wo 
drop  this  subject.  Our  friend,  Miss  Jacquetta,  might 
not  thank  either  of  us  for  so  free  a  use  of  her  name." 

Fi'ank  blushed  at  the  rebuke,  which  he  could  not 
help  feeling  he  deserved,  and  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation 
began  humming  :  '"  A  frog  he  would  a  wooing  i::o,"  as 
they  left  the  room.  Disbrowe  smiled  as  he  heard  him ; 
and,  letting  his  hajid  fall  on  his  shoulder,  said,  cor- 
dially : 

"  Come,  Master  Frank,  it  is  not  worthwhile  for  you 


A     WOMA^'■'S    NATURE. 


253 


and  I  to  disagree,  as  this  is  the  hist  morning  I  will  ever 
trouble  you.     We  must  part  friciuls,  my  dear  hoy." 

"  That  we  sliall,  Oonsin  Alt'reii  !''  exclaimed  Frauk, 
shaking  earnestly  the  prolt'ered  hand:  "and  I  do  like 
you  lirst  rate;  and  I  wish  you /^(?^/ got  Jack.  Now, 
then  !*' 

"  Thank  you !  but  your  wish  comes  rather  too  late ; 
I  am  not  likely  to  win  sucli  a  prize  in  Love's  lottery. 
Tell  her,  Frank,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  strange  ear- 
nestness in  his  dark,  handsome  eyes,  "  to  forget  all  I 
may  have  said  to  olfend  her;  and  tell  her  that  my  best 
wishes  go  with  her  and  wh(jever  may  be  fortunate  to 
win  the  heart  and  hand  slie  refused  me.  Tell  her  this, 
Frank,  my  dear  fellow,  since  I  am  not  destined  to  see 
her  again." 

FVaidv  wrunsj  his  hand  silently;  for  his  voice  at  that 
moment  was  not  altogether  under  his  command. 

Both  etitered  the  breakfast  parlor  together,  where 
Ausrusta,  Jacinto,  and  Mr.  De  Vere  sat  awaitinij;  them. 

Aucjusta  sat  the  same  iiii-ure  of  stone  that  she  al- 
ways  was  of  late  ;  but  the  cluuige  the  few  past  days 
had  wrought  in  her  never  struck  Disbrctwe  so  forcibly 
as  it  did  this  morning.  She  had  lost  flesh,  and  life, 
and  color  ;  she  was  but  the  shadow  of  her  former  self. 
Her  tall,  stately  form  was  wasted  and  thin  ;  her  cheeks 
hollow;  her  lofty  brow  death-like  in  its  blue-veined 
pallor ;  her  lips  were  white,  and  her  hands  so  j)alo  and 
wasted  that  they  looked  almost  transparent.  The  old 
story  of  the  vampire  sucking  the  life-blood  drop  by 
drop,  seemed  realized  in  her  case;  and  oh!  the  unspeak- 
able depth  of  desolation  and  despair  in  those  great, 
heavy  midnight  eyes.  And  sometliing  worse  than  des- 
olation and  despair  was  in  that  haggard  face,  too. — Ke- 
MOESE,  undying,  devouring,  remorse,  the  worm  that 
never  sleeps,  seemed  gnawing  her  heart — had  set  his 
white,  fearful  seal  on  that  corpse-like  face. 

She  lifted  her  eyes  slowly,  as  they  entered ;  and 
meetiuir  li 


S'^ 


pity 


'P 


old  liaughty  pride  of  the  De  Yei'cs,  that   even  her 


t»  • 


H'\\ 


1 


u 


;^ 


t  ■ 


(. 


K 


.  'I   i 

i   :        ! 


r 


254 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


night  of  anguish  coiikl  not  quench,  sent  a  momentary 
tiro  leaping  to  lier  ej-es,  and  a  lofty  look  to  the  while 
face  that  repelled  and  cast  oil  llercely  all  coniniisera- 
tion. 

Ml'.  De  Yere  put  down  the  book  lie  was  reading, 
and  came  forward  to  greet  him;  and  Jacinto,  who  sat 
caressing  a  ])eautifMl  little  water-spaniel — a  pet  of  Jac- 
quetta's — glanced  up  and  met  a  htok  full  of  angry  jeal- 
ousy from  the  young  Knglishman's  dark  eyes  that  made 
him  drop  his  own  and  Hush  to  the  temples. 

Mr.  De  Vere  apologized  in  a  few  words  for  Jac- 
quetta's  absence ;  and  they  all  gathered  around  the 
breakfast  table.  The  meal  passed  almost  in  silence,  and 
sadly  enough,  too  ;  for  all  were  thinking  it  was  the  last 
the  young  Guardsman  would  partake  of  beneath  that 
roof;  and  until  that  moment  they  had  not  known  how 
he  had  endeared  himself  to  them.  There  would  be  a 
dreary  gap  when  his  tall,  gallant  form  and  gay,  hand- 
some \')mig  face  was  gone,  that  would  not  be  easily 
filled  in  the  family  circle,  llad  Jacquetta  been  there, 
the  oppressive  silence  would  soon  have  been  broken ; 
but  she  was  "over  the  hills  and  far  away"  long  before 
this,  and,  doubtless — as  Disbrowe  thought — forgetful 
of  his  very  existence. 

"  Which  way  do  you  go  ?"  inquired  Mr.  De  Yere,  at 
length — making  an  effort  at  something  like  conversation. 

''  1  will  call  at  the  Mermaid,  and  take  passage  from 
there  in  some  schooner,  as  1  wish  to  take  sketeiies  of 
the  scenery  as  I  go  along,  which  I  understand,  is  very 
line  alonu:  the  Hudson." 

"  jSIonc  better,"  said  Mr.  De  Yere.  "  I  have  climbed 
the  proud  Alps,  I  have  sailed  down  the  Rhine,  as  the 
song  has  it,  but  I  have  never  seen  anything  to  surpass 
this  new  country  scener3\  You  ought  to  see  these 
American  forests  in  autumn,  decked  in  their  Joseph's 
coat  of  many  colors.     You  would  never  forget  it.     It 

1  1        (•   /'vi   1    t;^         1  1  1,1        •        ill  •      ,    %% 


f  Old  England  conq)l(jtely  in  that  point." 
always  understood  it  was  very  line,"  saic 
Disbrowe ;  "  but,  unhappily,  1  will  not  be  able  to  see 


goes  ahead  of 
"  1  have 


'S 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


255 


it.  I  hope  to  be  shooting  in  Fontelle  woods  before 
that." 

The  door  opened  as  he  spoke,  and  a  servant  ap- 
pearecl  with  a  startk^d  face. 

"Well,  Ileynoldsi"  said  Mr.  Dc  Yere,  looking 
up?" 

"She's  here  again,  sir!"  cried  Reynolds,  excitedly, 
"  and  she  won't  go  away,  all  we  can  do.  She  says  she 
will  see  you,  in  spite  of  us  all  I" 

"  Who  are  you  talking  about  ? — who  is  she  ?  Don't 
be  so  incoherent,  lleynolds." 

"It's  old  Mother  11  owlet,  sir,  if  you  please — and 
there's  a  man  along  with  her — and  she  won't  go 
away." 

Augusta  uttered  a  faint  exclamation,  and  sank  back 
in  her  chair. 

Mr.  De  Yere  arose,  his  face  flushed  with  anger. 

"Mother  llowlet!  How  dare  she  come  here! 
Order  her  away,  Itcynolds,  and  say  1  will  not  see  her." 

"  AYe  have,  S'r,  but  she  won't  go.  The  man  along 
with  her  has  got  a  pistol,  and  he  says  he  will  she  )t  the 
lirst  of  us  that  tries  to  keep  them  out." 

"  Who  is  the  fellow  r' 

"  Don't  know,  sir.  He's  a  short,  thickset  man,  with 
red  hair  and  whiskers,  and  a  savage  face." 

"  Captain  Nick  Tem]3est !"  simultaneously  exclaimed 
Jacinto,  Disbrowe,  and  Frank. 

"The  fellow  who  tried  to  shoot  you  that  evening 
Jacinto  was  wounded  V  asked  Mr.  De  Yere. 

"  The  same." 

"Eeallv,"  said  Mr.  De  A'ere,  an£i:rilv,  "Fontelle 
seems  to  be  a  rendez.vous  for  desperadoes  of  late.  Come, 
Keynolds,  I  will  go  with  you  to  this  worthy  pair,  and 
we  will  see  if  they  cannot  be  got  rid  of." 

"  You  had  better  be  careful,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
Disbrowe,  anxiously.  "  This  Ca])tain  Tempest  is  a 
most  sanguinary  villain,  and  capable  of  any  crime, 
I  believe." 

^i  Then  he  will  find  that  Fontelle  is  not  in  the  habit 


i' 


!•    •     |.|li 


m 


■iii 


])■ 


vl' 


i-i 


t^:^' 


V 


r 


H 


i 


I    -i  '. 


t  1 


w 


256 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE, 


^H 


of  sliclterins^  sam^ninaiy  villains,  nor  its  master  into 
bcini^  bullied  to  listen  to  what  they  have  to  say." 

And,  preceded  by  l^eynolds,  Mr.  Do  Vere  left  the 
rooui. 

"What  the  diekens  can  In-iu'r  those  two  hero?" 
exclaimed  the  astoni.-shed  Frank. 

"  That  IS  a  question  I  cannot  take  it  npon  inyself  lo 
answe:*,''  ^^^-i'^  l)is])ro\ve  ;  ''for  no  good,  you  may  safely 
Bwear.  They  must  liave  the  audacity  of  the  old  demon 
himself  to  come  here.  Are  you  ill,  Miss  Augusta? 
You  look  alarmed." 

"  Oh,  no." 

She  was  sitting  gazing  at  the  door,  with  a  look  so 
strained  and  unnaiural  that  it  startled  them.  Jacinto, 
too,  was  white,  as  if  v/ith  apprehension,  and  shrank 
from  the  eyes  of  all.  Moment  after  moment  passed — 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  went  by,  but  still  Mr.  De  Vere  did 
not  return. 

"  What  can  detain  nnclo  ?"  exclaimed  Frank. 
"They  can't  Ilivc  done  anything  to  him,  can  they? 
Suppose  I  ring  anil  see  f ' 

No  one  objected  ;  and,  seizing  the  bell-pull,  ho 
rang  a  peal  that  presently  brought  Reynolds  into  tho 
room. 

"Have  those  two  old  tramnersmme?"  asked  Frank. 


)) 


I  per; 
"No,  Master  Fraidv ;  they're  both  here  yet, 
''  The  dickeiis  they  are  !  wheru\s  uncle  ?" 
In  the  morning  parlor  with  Moiher  llowlet. 


a  T 


(( 


5) 


(( 


Oh,  ginger!"  exclaimed  the  overwhclnu'd  Frank, 
there's  a  piece  of  news !     Where's  Captain  Tempest  ?" 
Sitting  in  the  hall  smoking." 
Smoking!    there's   coolness   for  you,   ladies   and 


ii 


u 


gcnti: 


on  m: 


^y 


i;«s 


1! 


eyn 


o 


Ids ! 


lieynolds  liowetl  and  withdrew,  and  the  quartet 
looked  at  each  other  in  silent  amaze.  Augusta  leaned 
on  her  elbow,  and  dropped  her  forehead  on  her  hand, 
but  not  before  they  saw  how  fearfully  agitated  her  face 
was.  Jacinto,  alternately  })ale  and  red,  got  up  and  sat 
down^   and  occuiingly   could   rest   nowhere.     Captain 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


257 


^•i 


d 


(1 


lU 


Disbrowc  looked  calmly  sni-prisod,  and  Master  Frank 
gave  vent  to  liis  feelin;i:s  by  whistlinu^,  and  with  liia 
hands  in  his  pockets  m  ii'checl  np  and  down  the  room  to 
the  tnne  of  the  ''Koiijue's  ]\Iarc.'h." 

An  honr  passed,  and  all  wore  wroui!;ht  np  to  a  state 
of  almost  intolerable  snspense.  '•  1  wish  nacle  would 
come — I  do  wish  he  wouKV  Frank  had  repeated  for 
the  liftieth  time,  when  at  last  the  door  was  opened  and 
Mr.  l)e  Vere  entered,  closely  followed  by  Grizzle  llow- 
let  and  Captain  jN'ick  Tempest. 

A  score  of  questions  were  on  Fraidv'slips  ;  but  they 
froze  there,  as  he  looked  on  his  uncle's  face.  The  stern 
and  relentless  face  of  an  entrained  S[)artan  father,  carved 
in  marble,  miii;hthave  looked  as  his  did  at  that  moment. 
A  dusky  lire  was  in   his   eye,  and   his   lips  were  coni- 

Eressed  as  in  a  vise.  The  faces  of  Captain  JSick  and 
is  fair  friend  bore  an  unmist^ikable  look  of  triumphant 
malice,  as  they  coolly  helped  themselves  to  seats.  Cap- 
tain Nick  bowed  politely  all  round,  in  bland  amiability 
— even  to  Captain  Disbrowe;  for  there  is  nothing 
makes  us  more  amiable  for  the  time  Ijeinuj  than  tbj 
consciousness  that  we  are  al)Out  to  have  complete  re- 
venijc.  AuOTsta  shook  in  mortal  terror  from  meetinc: 
the  eye  of  old  Grizzle,  and  shi-ank  away  in  a  recess  of 
the  window,  shaking  like  one  in  an  ague  lit.  A  sinister 
smile  parted  the  thin  lips  of  that  lady,  as  she  saw  it ; 
and  she  exchanged  an  exultant  look  with  the  gallant 
connnander  of  the   "  I'ly  by-jS'ight.'" 

''  Frank,"  said  Mr.  De  Vere,  turning  to  his  nephew, 
"do  you  know  in  what  particular  direction  Jacquetta 
has  gone  V 

Frank  started  and  stared.  There  was  a  sharp  ring- 
ing tone  in  his  uncle's  voice,  that  was  never  heard  there 
save  w'lcn  his  anjjjer  was  at  its  hciirht.  Jt  was  seldom 
Mr.  l)e  Wm'c  was  really  angry  ;  but  when  he  was,  ho 
was  almost  relentless  in  his  stern  ])assion. 

"1^0,  sir — that  is,  yes,  sir — she  has  gone  to  Tied 
liock." 

"  Do  you  know  what  time  she  will  return  i" 


•    *     n 


'1     ^j 

'  *i . 

I  ' 


I  ' 


if 


1 

1' 

;       ¥ 

, 

* 

I 


zsmmBBmam 


\   ' 


tmm 


iram 


258 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


*■ 


21 


"  No,  sir,  perliajis  not  before  night." 

Mr.  J)c  Vcru  seized  the  bell,  and  rang  furiously.' 
Koynoldri  again  appeared. 

"lleynolds,  go  and  tell  "VVilliani  to  saddle  Fireliy — 
that  is  the  fastest  horse,  I  believe — and  bring  hi)n 
round  instantly  to  the  front  door  !" 

lleynolds  jlew  to  obey,  wondering  inwardly  what 
was  up  ;  and  then,  turning  to  the  astonished  Frank,  said, 
peremptorily  : 

"  Mount  instantly,  and  be  off  for  Jacqnetta!  Tell 
her  she  is  to  return  with  you  inunediatelv — iimnedi- 
aithj^  mind!  Lose  not  a  moment  going  or  coming! 
GoT' 

Frank  started  to  his  feet,  more  in  dismay  than  in 
obedience  ;  but  there  was  that  in  liis  uncle's  face  that 
repelled  in(|uiry  and  extorted  ooiiipliance. 

''Just  tell  her  I  want  her  !  You  need  not  say  who 
is  here.  It  is  as  well  to  take  her  unprepared,"  he 
said,  lowering  his  voice. 

''  That's  'so,  ]\rr.  J  )e  Ver(> !"  exclaimed  Captain 
Tempest,  whose  keert  ears  overheard  him. 

"  iSilence,  sir!"  said  M.'.  I)e  Verc,  liercely,  "learn 
to  hold  your  tongue  a\  hen  a  gentleman  speaks  !"  Then 
turning  to  Frank,  he  said,  "  What  ani  you  waiting  for, 
sir?  be  olf ;  and  mind,  don't  let  the  grass  grow  under 
your  feet !" 

Frank,  so  violently  astonished  that  he  scarcely  knew 
whether  he  was  waking  or  dreanu'iig,  seized  his  cap, 
and  darted  out  of  the  room.  Caj^t^in  Tempest  arose, 
his  face  red  with  anger. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,"  he  began,  turning 
savagely  to  J\Ir.  De  Vere,  when  a  hand  i  "d  his 
arm,  and  he  was  forced  back  into  his  chair. 

"  Wliy  will  you  be  a  fool  ?"  said  Grizzl«\  angrily,  ia 
Spanish,  "sit  down  and  wait  I     Your  revenge  Ji*  com- 


ing! 


I'' 


A  moment's  silence  fell  on  all.     Cai)iii}n  Tenif^est 
scowled,  Mr.  De  Vere  walked  to  the  window,  ui»d  stood 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


269 


W 


like  a  statue,  and  DI>bro\vo  pulled  out  bis  watcli  and 
looked  at  the  hour. 

"•Time  1  was  oil,''  he  said  startini^  np  ;  ''my  dear 
uncle,  can  I  see  you  a  moment  in  i)rivate,  before  1  go  f 

''  Yon  nnist  po.-tjxjne  your  journey  for  to-day,  Al- 
fred," said  his  nilele  imperiously.  "  There  is  a  eei^tain 
family  all'air  to  be  discussed  here,  presently,  at  which  I 
require  your  presence.  Your  journey  can  wait,  so  sit 
down !" 

Jacijito  started  to  his  feet. 

"Then  I  will  not  intrude,"  he  said,  "  I  will  go!" 

"  Y'^ou  will  stay  !"  intei'posed  Mi*.  De  Yere,  sternly. 
"Sit  down,  sir;  perhaps  we  may  lind  your  presence 
necessary  before  we  have  done !" 

The  boy  turned  white,  even  to  his  lips. 

"  I  beg,  sir,"  he  began  falteringly ;  but  Mr.  De 
Yere  turned  almost  liercely  upon  him. 

"Sit  down,  sir!  You  shall  do  as  I  tell  you.  Per- 
haps we  may  make  you  give  a  better  account  of  youi'self 
before  you  go  !     Sit  down  !" 

The  lad  reeled,  and  fell  back  into  a  seat,  like  one 
fainting. 

All  this  time  Augusta  had  cowered  in  her  seat, 
slmddc'ing,  treml)ling,  C(jllapsed.  Now  she  lifted  her 
white  face,  and  I'isiiig  to  her  feet,  she  turned  to  Grizzle, 
and  gasped  rather  than  said : 

"  Have   you — have    you — broken    your    promise  ? 


• « 


voice 


died 


away, 


and   she 


Have    you   told —  C   her 
shivered  convulsively. 

The  old,  evil  sniile  came  ever  Grizzle's  face,  as  she 
fixed  her  piercing  eyes  ou  the  young  girl's  ghastly  face, 
and  (pn'etiy  replied : 

"No,  Lady  Augusta,  I  have  not  told  !  Your  secret 
is  safe,  at  least,  for  the  ])reseiU- ;  1  do  not  care  to  blacken 
my  lips  just  yet  by  telling  it,  nor  -corcli  your  father's 
ears  b^'  the  hearing,  Fear  not  for  the  })resent — you 
arc  safe." 

She  sank  back,  and  dropped  her  white  face  in  her 
white  hands.     Mr.  Do  Yere,  standing  stern  and  molion- 


.iii 


!l 


r  i 


•  I 


\ 


a  ''   i; 


A     WOMAN'S    NATURE. 


..   . 


less,  if  he  heard,  licoded  not ;  and  Jacinto,  whose 
emotion  was  evidently  one  of  intense  terror — ratliir 
surprising  in  one  who  a  short  time  before  had  fearlessly 
rislved  liis  life  to  save  another's — cowered  do\.  n  on  his 
seat,  and  did  not  dare  to  look  up,  while  a  streak  of 
darlv  red  at  intcvals  llaslied  across  his  dark  face.  JJi.— 
browe,  astonished  and  tronbled,  yet  with  a  licart 
thrilling  at  the  thought  that  he  was  to  see  Jacquei.a 
again,  looked  uneasily  from  face  to  face.  Old  Grizzle, 
with  her  gray  cloak  folded  closely  around  her,  sat  with 
u  grim,  sinister  smile  glittering  in  her  snake-like  eyes, 
and  wrinkling  her  thin  lii)s.  And  Captain  Tempest, 
lolling  back  in  his  chair,  elevated  his  legs  on  another, 
clapped  a  wedge  of  the  Virginian  weed  in  his  mouth, 
stuck  his  hands  in  his  coat-pockets,  and  looked  the 
very  picture  of  nonohalance  and  high-bred  self 
possession. 

And  hours  passed  I 


H 


n  'J 


LITTLE    ORRIE. 


261 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LITTLE  ORRIE. 

"  In  truth  she  was  a  strange  and  wayward  child, 
Fond  of  each  gentle  and  each  dreadful  scene, 
In  darkness  and  in  storm,  and  winter  wild." 

— Beattib. 

N  hour  before  daybreak  tliat  morning,  Jac- 
quetta  was  in  the  saddle,  and  oil"  on  her 
mission  of  mercy.  She,  too,  had  passed  a 
sleepless  nii»;ht ;  and  the  bitterest  tears  per- 
liaps  she  ]iad  ever  shed  in  her  life,  had  fal- 
len from  her  eyes.  Jaequetta  rarely  wept  like  other 
girls,  even  in  troul)le — she  seldom  could — she  mostly 
sat  like  a  stone  till  the  pain  at  her  heart  wore  itself  out ; 
but  the  look  in  Disbrowe's  eyes,  as  she  left  him,  had 
moved  her  strangly,  and  her  tears  had  fallen  more  for 
him  than  lierself.  That  he  loved  her  truly,  she  could 
■•:'ot  doubt;  and  a  ''still  small  voice,"  far  down  in  her 
heart,  whispered  that  she  loved  him,  too.  She  shrank 
in  horror  from  that  voice — she  shrank  from  herself — 
she  would  not  hear  it ;  there  was  guilt  in  listening  to  it 
for  a  moment.  She  would  not  have  seen  him  again 
for  worlds  ;  she  would  not  look  in  his  dark,  pleading 
eyes,  less  it  should  make  her  traitor-heart  betray  her  ; 
and  she  would  have  torn  it  out,  and  hurled  it  from  her, 
had  it  been  in  her  power,  lirst.  And  yet  there  was  in- 
expressible pain  in  the  thought  of  his  forgetting  her 
altogether;  worse,  of  b(^Iieving  her  in  love  with  :  n- 
othcr — this  small  boy  !  How  she  desi)ised  herself  that 
any  one  should  believe  her  ca])ableof  being  bewildered 
by  the  first  handsome   face  she  met.    It  would  have 


VM   i\ 


*^»'-lii 


'if' I 


M 


.(I 


fi  f 


>\ 


I  I 


I  " 


i  i 


262 


LITTLE    ORUIE. 


i 


u. 
l' 

I 


i     1*1 


i 


been  a  sweet  drink  to  DIsl)rowe  to  know  the  restless, 
miserable  niii:lit  slio  had  passed,  and  Ikjw  eajj^erly  she 
had  loniijed  fur  morninij^,  when  on  Liulitniiii^''s  hack  slio 
mif^ht  lly  over  tlie  liilLs,  as  slie  longed  to  lly  from  her- 
self. And  before  that  morning  came,  she  was  oil"  and 
away,  forgetting  in  her  rapid,  exciting  gallop,  the  re- 
bellious rising,  and  throbbing,  and  aching  of  her 
woman's  heart.  Her  way  led  her  within  half  a  mile  of 
the  lone  inn;  and  to  her  surprise,  the  first  object  she  be- 
held, as  she  neared  it,  was  little  (Jrrie,  leaping,  spring- 
ing, ilying  over  the  rocks  like  one  possessed. 

"Hallo,  Orriel"  she  called,  reining  in  her  horse,  as 
the  child  stopped  to  look  at  her.  "  You  here !  What 
are  you  doing  i" 

"  Nothing,"  said  Orrie,  composedly. 

"  Where  are  you  going  f ' 

"  Nowhere." 

"Who's  at  home?" 

"  No  one." 

"Where's  Grizzle?" 

"Don't  know." 

"  Satisfactory  answers,"  said  Jacquetta,  laughiDg. 
"  Will  you  come  for  a  ride,  Ori-ie  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Here  then,  mount." 

Orrie  took  the  hand  she  extended,  and  sprang  be- 
fore her  into  the  saddle.  And  Jacouetta  again  darted 
off, 

"  AVhere  are  you  goirg  ?"  asked  the  child. 

"  Only  a  little  way  I'rom  here — to  lied  Iwock." 

"  Is  that  nice  young  gentleman  at  Fontelle  yet?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jacquetta,  tlushing  violently. 

"Ain't  he  nice  ^  Oh!  1  do  love  him!  Don't  you 
love  him,  too  ?"  asked  Orrie,  looking  up  in  her  face. 

"  See  how  fast  Lightning  goes;  watch  him  junnp 
over  that  gully!"  said  flaccpietta,  eagerly. 

Of  course,  Orrie  was  all  animation. 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  when  we  go  so  fast  ?" 


LITTLE    ORRIE. 


263 


"  Afraid  T'  said  Orric,  contemptuously.  "  No  ;  I 
guess  I  ain't !  I  love  to  go  fast !"' 

"  You  iovo  a  good  many  things — don't  you  ?"  said 
Jacquctta. 

"  Yes  ;  I  guess  I  do !  Tlierc's  Red  Iloek  !  Whose 
liouse  are  you  going  to  V 

"  Briggs'." 

"  Oil,  yes  ;  old  Jake  Briggs  got  his  legs  smashed  olT  !  I 
heard  Kit  telling  Blaise  it.  Are  you  going  to  lix  'em 
for  him  V' 

"Iwisli  I  could,"  said  Jacqnetta,  as  she  leaped 
lightly  oir,  and  gave  her  hand  to  Orrie  to  ,-pring ;  '•  but 
I  am  afraid  that  is  beyond  me.     Come  in." 

A  boy  came  out  and  took  her  horse,  as  though  it 
were  quite  a  matter  of  course  to  see  Miss  De  Vere  there. 
Jacquetta  went  in  with  Orrie  to  the  cottage,  where,  on 
a  bed,  lay  the  prostrate  form  of  the  unfortunate  Briggs 
— life  almost  extinct. 

A  woman  was  l)ending  (»ver  him,  crying  and 
"wringing  licr  hands  ;  four  c:  five  children  were  crouched 
round  a  smoky  tire,  in  L-ud  hmientations — some  for 
their  father,  and  some  for  pieces  of  bread. 

Jacquetta's  presence  stilled  them  all  for  a  moment 
— even  the  mother.  A  doctor  had  been  sent  for,  and 
was  expected  every  instant;  so  she  turned  to  the 
children  and  quieted  them  by  distributing  unlimited 
slices  of  bread  and  butter,  an  unlailing  cure  generally 
for  the  atiiictions  of  childhood.  Orrie  declined  taking 
any,  and  sat  with  her  black,  eltlsh  eyes  riveted,  as  it" 
fascinated,  on  the  distorted  face  of  the  maimed  man. 
Jacquetta  strove  to  conscde  the  woman  ;  re[)lenished  the 
smoky  lire  until  it  burned  brightly  ;  put  the  dis(jrdered 
room  to  rights,  and  made  herself  generally  useful;  until 
the  arrival  of  the  doctor,  lie  came  in  about  an  hour 
— pronounced  the  case  hopeless;  spoke  pleasantly  to 
Jacquetta,  and  called  her  a  good  little  girl  ;  hoped  she 
would  nudce  her  uncle  do  something  for  the  family ; 
chucked  Orrie  under  the  chin,  and   incpiired   the  latest 


r  • 


I 


''■■■i\ 


1 

\  I 


1  f '  1. 


a  t 


1 


f' 


264 


LITTLE    ORRIE. 


!i    5 


f 

.? 

j 

■i 

^ 

I 


■\ 


news  from  the  land  of  goblins ;  and  put  on  his  glovea 
and  departed. 

Koon  approached,  and  Jacqiietta  was  just  trying 
her  hand  at  getting  dinner  for  the  children,  when  the 
furious  clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  brought  her  to  the  door ; 
and  she  saw  Frank  panting,  Dushed,  breathless,  stand- 
ing before  her. 

"  AVell,  Master  Frank,  what  now  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  O  Jack  !  you're  to  eonie  right  straight  home  !  Uncle 
says  so—  he  sent  me  after  you  !  There's  the  old  dickens 
to  pay  at  Fontelle  !" 

Jacquetta  looked  at  him  in  calm  astonishment. 

"  Come  right  straight  home !  Why,  what's 
wrong  ?" 

"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure — everything  is !  Old  Grizzle 
Howlet's  there,  and  old  Kick  Tempest;  and  uncle's  in 
a  re<2jular  downriti^ht  state  of  mind,  if  ever  you  saw  him 
m  one ! 

"  What  sort  of  a  state  of  mind?" 

"  A  blamed  angry  one !  Come,  hurry  up !  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  they  were  all  assassinating  one  an- 
other by  this  time.  Uncle  told  me  not  to  say  old  Griz- 
zle and  Captain  Tempest  were  there  ;  but  I  couldn't 
hold  in." 

"Not  to  tell  me?  Really!  Is — is  Captain  Disbrowe 
there?"  she  asked,  iiesitatingly. 

"  JJe  was  when  I  left!  Come — make  haste!" 

"I  will  be  back  in  a  monu^nt,"  said  Jacquetta,  hur- 
rying in  to  get  lier  hat,  and  take  her  dejiarture. 

Orrie,  hearing  Frank's  voice,  came  out,  to  his  great 
amazement ;  but  a  few  M'ords  explained  how  she  got 
there.  And  the  young  gentleman  swung  her  up  before 
him,  and  announced  his  intention  of  carrying  her  ofl:  to 
Fontelle. 

"  Will  you?"  cried  Orrie,  dehghted  ;  "  that's  you  I 
I  want  to  see  that  nice  captain  again." 

"It's  the  last  time  vou'U  see  him,  then  for  one 
while,"  said  Frank,  "  for  he  is  going  away  to-day." 

"  Going  where  ?" 


(;!> 


LITTLE    OlililE, 


2G5 


"  Oh  !  ever  so  far  away  !  To  a  place  called  England 
— a  small  little  island  they  have  over  there." 

"  And  when  will  ho  come  hack  C 

"  Nev^er,  I  expect,"  siid  Fraidv,  sententiously.  "  So 
begin  and  tear  your  hair  and  rend  your  garments  as 
eoon  as  you  like." 

Orric's  face  grew  so  blank  at  the  news,  that  Frank 
had  to  laugh  ;  but  at  that  moment  Jacquetta  mounted, 
and  they  both  dashed  oil"  together. 

"What  on  earth  can  they  ever  want  with  me, 
Frank  V  she  asked. 

"  How  the  mischief  do  I  know?  Something  awful's 
lip,  Fve  no  doubt !" 

"  And  papa  told  you  not  to  tell  mo  they  were 
there  f 

"  Yes !" 

"  AVell,  it's  strange,  I  must  say  ;  but  time  will  tell ; 
and  so  I  don't  object  to  a  small  surprise." 

And  she  laujz;hcd,  and  hummed : 


I 

If 

f '  >'  il 
lit'    Il 

1    >. 


"': 


re 


Ir- 


il 


**  Romance  for  ne,  romance  for  me, 
And  a  nice  little  bit  of  mystery." 

"  I  rather  calculate  it  won't  be  a  very  pleasant  sur- 
prise when  you  do  hear  it,"  said  Frank.  ''  Old  Grizzle 
looked  as  if  she  ineant  mischief." 

"  She  generally  meant  that." 

"And  she  and  uncle  had  a  lone:  confab  tocretlier  in 
the  nursery-room." 

" Indeed  C 

"  And  when  he  came  in  he  looked  liked  a  thunder- 
cloud ! — like  the  picture  of  that  old  thingymajlg  in  the 
library,  you  know — that  old  Iloman  brick  that  killed 
his  daughter !" 

"Perhaps  it  was  something  about  Augusta!" 

"  Don't  know — it  might ;  but  then,  what  can  they 
want  of  you  in  such  a  tremendous  hurry  ?" 

"  Very  true !     Well,  there  is  no  use  troubling  our- 

12 


\\  t 


\ 


I 

i. ' 


'•    \ 


266 


LITTLE  onniE. 


Rolves  about  it  till  we  t,'ct  thorc.  Orj-ie,  are  you  not 
afraid  to  go  to  FoiitcUe,  and  Old  Grizzle  there '^" 

"No,"  said  Orrie;  "I  iiiiist  see  the  captain;  and 
she  may  l)eat  me  if  she  likes ;  but  I  will  I" 

"  AVliat  a  lady-killer  he  is — eh,  Jack  ?"  said  Frank, 
laugh  in<^. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for?"  said  Jacquetta, 
coloring  slight!}'',  and  not  noticing  Frank's  remark. 

"Oh!  I  want  to  ask  him  to  take  me  with  him — he 
said,  perhaps  he  would." 

Frank  laughed  uproariously  at  the  vei*y  idea  of  the 
thing;  and  then,  as  the  rapid  })ace  at  which  they  went 
precluded  conversation,  they  relapsed  into  silence  and 
galloped  swiftly  along. 

Some  time  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  Fontelle. 
As  they  entered  tiie  hall  they  met  licynolds. 

"I  say,  Reynolds,"  said  Frank,  taking  him  by  the 
button,  "are  all  the  good  folks  in  the  parlor  yet?" 

"  Yes,  Master  Fnuik." 

"  Is  uncle  there  d" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Nursing  his  wrath  to  keep  it  warm!"  laughed 
Jacquetta,  as  she  tripjied  along,  and  opening  the  parlor- 
door  entered,  followed  by  Frank  and  little  Oriole. 


A    PROUD    UEAIIT     C'liCSUL'D. 


20' 


•  • 


M 


rt'l! 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A   PROUD    IIEAUT   CIIUSIIED. 

"  When  I  am  cold,  when  my  piile-slicetod  corse 

Sleeps  the  dark  skep  lu)  vcnomt'd  tongue  can  wako, 

List  not  to  evil  tlu)Uglits  of  licr  wlicse  lips 

Have  then  no  voice  to  plead." — Matuuin's  Bertram. 

HE  ofroup  in  tlie  parlor  had  scarcf^ly  chan  cd 
their  ])0.sitioiis  since  the  morninir,  except 
tliat  Captain  Tempest,  overcome  by  tho 
silence  and  watchinu^,  iiad  fallen  asleep,  and 
now  snored  aiidihly.  Limclieon  had  been 
served;  for,  even  in  his  ani^er,  j\[i-.  J)c  V'ere  could  not 
forij^et  ho-^pitalitj ;  but  no  one  iiad  touched  it  save 
Grizzle  and  lier  companion.  Mr.  \)  i  Vvvv,  with  his 
arms  folded  across  his  chest,  sat  moodily  in  li:s  elbow- 
chair,  and  Augusta  and  .lacinto  still  maintained  their 
droopintr,  dejected  position. 

Jacquetta's  keen  eyes  took  it  all  in  at  a  glance,  and 
then  advancinf'-  toward  Mr.  ]  )e  Yere  she  beiian  : 
"You  sent  for  m(\  papa — " 

"  One  moment,  young  lady  V  interposed  IMr.  De 
Yere,  sternly,  sitting  upright.  'vDo  not  speak,  it"  yoii 
please — at  least  for  tho  pi'esent — only  in  answer  to  my 
(piestions.     Ah!  how  <*ame  this  child  here  f ' 

(irizzle  nttered  an  exclamaiion  at  the  same  time  a3 
I'll 1 1(3  Orrie  entered  with  Fratd-c ;  but  that  ycnng  lady 
paid  not  tho  slightest  attention  to  either.  i)arLing  her 
bright,  black  eyes  hither  and  thitlier  until  they  rested 
on  Disbrowe,  who  was  in  the  act  of  layinj;  aside  the  book 
he  had  been  reading,  she  darted  forward,  according  to 


I ;. 


M « 


1 


268 


A     F  no  I'D     UFAiT     V  HUSHED. 


■1   i 


,.   ; ' 


\  «  f : 


i    ;* 


her  usual  fashion,  Ihiui^  her  anus  round   his   neck,  aTid 
fell  to  Ivis.sin^  him  rajjturonsly. 

Jaecjuetta,  wlio  had  lir^t  started  at  her  father's 
ad(h*e>.~,  and  iixed  her  clear,  penetratiiii;  eyes  full  on 
111  face,  in  ealni  surprise,  now  recovered  herself,  and 
Baid,  quietly  : 

"  If  that  question  is  addressed  to  me,  I  found  lier 
playiuii;  near  the  old  inn,  and  took  her  with  me  to  Red 
Ilock,  and  from  thence  home,  hy  her  own  desire." 

"Home  !"  said  Mr.  i)o  Vere,  with  a  slight  sneer. 
"IIow  know  vou  this  is  her  liomc  V 

"  I  did  not  say  it  was  !  She  wished  to  sec  Captain 
Disbrowe,  and  I  brought  her  here  to  my  home  for  that 
purpose." 

"  Ah  !     You  are  very  fond  of  the  child,  doubtless  ?" 

"  1  like  her — yes,  sir." 

"  You  lll'e  lier  !     Nothing  more  ?" 

"  I  do  not  imderstand  you,  papa." 

"  We  will  drop  that  title,  if  you  please.  Until  cer- 
tain matters  are  cleared  up,  I  am  not  at  all  ambitious  to 
hear  it  from  your  lips." 

Two  red  spots,  like  twin  tongues  of  flame,  lcai)ed 
to  the  cheeks  of  Jacquetta,  and  she  passed  her  hand 
over  her  brow  in  a  bewihlered  sortof  May.  Disbrowe's 
face  llu  lied,  and  he  bit  his  lip  till  it  was  bloodless. 
Augusta  and  Jacinto  looked  uj),  and  Iixed  their  eyes  on 
^Ir.  De  Vere  in  utter  amazement.  A  smile  and  sig- 
nificant glance  ])assed  l)etweeu  (jrizzle  and  Captain 
ISiick,  Fraidv's  eyes  Hashed ;  and  even  little  ()rrie, 
perching  her  head  on  one  side,  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  as  if  trvinLC  to  undei'si:ind  what  all  this  meant. 
!Mr.  \)(\  Verci's  face  M'as  growing  sterner  and  darker 
cv(!ry  moment ;  for,  as  she  stoo<l  there  before  him, 
there  was  little  diiliculty  in  tracin'«-  the  strong  resem 
blance  between  her  and  Nick  Tempest.  Jacquetta  was 
proud — too  |)roud  to  let  any  one  there  present  see  how 
keenly  she  felt  the  insult ;  so,  drawing  her  small,  slight 
figure  up  to  its  full  height,  she  bowed  and  said,  coldly  : 

•'  As  you  please,  sir." 


A    PROUD    HEART    CRUSHED. 


2G9 


"  I  mi^ijht  not  po  iniioli  ol)jeot  to  liearliiii;  it  mysell','' 
said  Mr.  J)o  Vcmv,  in  the  saiiie  8liLrlitlv->iiL't'riiiii-  touu 
he  liaci  before  used — more  t^alliiii^  to  hear,  by  far,  than 
an  aiii;Ty  one  would  have  been  ;  '*  l)ut  a^i  there  is  another 
^jentlenian  present  who  lias  a  better  claim  than  I  to  that 
(iulifid  title,  perhaps  he  may  be  jealous  at  being  robbed 
of  his  due." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"Oh,  lire  away!  Didi't  mind  me,"  exolaimed  Cap- 
tain Niek,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "  I  shan't  be  jeal- 
ous !     All  in  good  time,  you  know." 

"  Perhaps  you  understand  now^  young  lady !" 
bDeered  ]\lr.  De  Vtre. 

"  I  do  not,  sir.     May  I  ask  you  to  explain  ?" 

"Explain  what  f 

"This  singular  seene.  What  have  I  to  do  with 
these  people  V  And  she  pointed  to  Captain  Nick  and 
his  lady-friend. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Jacrpietta,  my  girl — or,  Lelia, 
rather — you  may  as  well  leave  off  vour  airs  at  once. 
Old  Grizzle's  split,  and  so  it  s  no  use  carrying  things 
with  a  high  hand  anv  longer,"  suid  Captain  Tempest, 
in  a  large  tone  of  voice. 

"No,  Jaccpietta  !  It's  too  late  ;  the  play  is  ])layed 
out,"  said  Grizzle.  "  I  have  told  Mr.  De  Vere  all,  and 
it  is  of  no  use  for  3'ou  to  add  any  more  falsehoods  to 
the  rest." 

"  And  so  you  may  as  well  strike  your  colors  and  sur- 
render at  once,  my  little  iirebrand  !"  said  Captain  Nick. 

Jaccpietta  turned  her  Hashing  eyes  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  her  small  hands  clenched  as  though  she 
could  have  sprung  on  them  both  like  a  wounded  pan- 
ther, on  the  spot;  but  after  .1  moment's  scrutiny,  her 
mood  changed,  and  she  turned  away  witli  a  curling  lip, 
as  though  she  thought  them  unworthy  of  her  notice. 

"May  1  ask,  sir,"  she  repeated,  turning  almost  im- 
periously to  Mr.  De  Vere,  "for  an  ex])lanation  of  all 
this?  Was  I  brought  here  U)  l)e  publicly  disgraced  be- 
fore a  mixed  crowd  like  this  i" 


•  • 


M 


ffi! 


k.1     • 

,1' 


V' 


I    ■   ( 


m^B 


i| 


M 


I!   i    I 


|fh' 


270 


A    PROUD    HE  ART     CRUSUED. 


h    * 


"  liL'ally,  iiiauani,  you  niupt  be  careful  how  3^011  lalk  ! 
If,  hv  tlio  '  mixed  crowd  '  you  mean  tliosc  two  worthy 
folks  hchiiid  yoii,  tlie  tcrin  is  siiij^litly  disrcspcctfid  to 
one  of  tliem  at  least,"  said  Mr.  L)e  Vere. 

"JleavensI  will  no  one  tell  me  what  this  mea!is  ^ 
Auj  1  an  idiot,  to  be  treated  like  this!!''  she  demanded, 
with  Ji  i^assionate  stamp  of  her  loot. 

"  Wliv,  I  have  inst  told  yon,  my  little  duck  !'*  said 
Caplain  Nick.  ''Jt  means  {\u.\  iat's  in  the  lire;  the 
cat's  out  of  the  lui.^;  that  you've  ])ut  your  foot  in  it; 
that  you've  <':;»t  to  the  end  of  yonr  tether;  and  OKI 
Gri/zle,  thinkini;-  you  mi^ht  bolt  the  ropes,  lias  i^iven 
yon  a  sliort  ])n!l  \\\).  J  adnure  your  ])ln('k,  u[)on  my 
Foul  1  do!  an<l  I  can  set?  with  half  an  eve  vou're  yom* 
father's  dann'htei",  evei'v  inch  of  yon  ;  so  you  had  better 
acknowledge  the  coiii,  and  come  to  terms  at  once.  I 
dare  say  ii  won't  be  pleasant,  at  iirst — m(>re  csj)ecially 
in  that  younii;  gcMit's  ])resence  over  there;  but  he'll 
know  it  sooiuM'  or  later,  so  you  mii;;ht  jnst  as  well  drop 
your  mask,  ;md  sail  under  your  own  llaii;  for  the  future. 
You're  a  ti[)-lop  little  brick,  my  girl ;  and  I  swan  you 
ought  to  be  i!  lady,  in  spite  of  the  old  saying  that  you 
can't  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear!  ^'ou 
remind  me  of  a  young  <'(.lt,  my  deal',"  said  the  captain, 
M'ith  a  t(»ncli  of  j)!ii!osophy  ;  and  gi\ing  his  arm  a  wave 
by  way  of  directing  attention  to  the  ])erorati()n.  "  As 
Boon  as  the  bi'idie  and  cm'b  is  first  ])nt  on,  after  it  has 
heen  allowed  to  run  loose  rc.nnd  the  pastui'e  all  its  life, 
it  kicks  up  its  heels  and  grows  re.stive,  and  jdunges, and 
struggles,  an<l  I'aises  a  devil  of  a  row  generally  (saving 
your  presence,  ladies  and  gents,  for  naming  my  friend 
ill  yonr  presence)  ;  but  still  it  has  to  submit,  and  linally 
settles  down  into  a  ca])ital  beast  of  burden,  in  the  long 
rim.  And  so,  my  bright  little  Hash  of  lightning,  you 
will  liave  to  tame  down  to  a  common  tallow  candle,  and 
burn  mider  a  shade  at  that  ;  and  you  may  as  well  come 
to  terms  now  as  ever." 

All  the  timeC'aptain  Nick  had  been  thus  eloquently 
delivering  himself,  the   clear,  bright,  penetrating  eyes 


liaa 
liUid 
leiul 

Oiiii: 

lyou 
land 
|)inu 

ntly 
3ycs 


A     PROUD    III:  ART     CRUSHED 


of  Jacquetta  bad  been  lixcd  oi^  bis  face — riveted  tbeic 
witb  siicb  a  steady,  unwinkiii;^  i!;'>'^'-N  ''''ii^  M'lieii  tbat- 
gallant  mariner  bad  concluded,  and,  looking  up,  niel 
tbat  jiercin^i-,  burninur,  lixed  scrutiny,  be  gave  an  un- 
easy start,  sbifted  in  Jjis  cliair,  tried  to  stare  back,  but 
failed,  and  ilnall\'  bunr  out  again  in  a  bullying  u^ui: 

"Ob,  conic,  Jack  Dc  Vero  I  nonco't'  »''  I  can 
stand  a  good  deal,  but  I  never  was  acfjUu  :.  1  wilb 
Job,  and  ain't  much  like  liini  in  disposition  ;  i*o  I'ln  »n- 
connbon  apt  to  llai'c  uj)  \vlu;n  ])i-ovoki>il  I  I r's  disre- 
spectful, too,  astlie  old  gent  over  tliere  told  you  «  little 
while  ago,  and — '' 

"  J  beg  you  will  not  allude  to  me,"  said  Mr.  i>e  Vcre, 
augbtily.  '•  With  you,  sir,  1  have  nothing  to  <i<j,  and 
ic  seldonier  you  refer  to  me  the  better !" 


b 
tlie 


Captain  iS'iek  sprang  to  bi.^  feet  in  a  rage: 

"  Wby,  you  darned  old  aristocnit !  do  yon  moan  fo 
say  Vn\  not  as  good  a  man  as  any  Do  \'ere  among  y  ju 
that  ever  liad  his  bead  stuck  on  a  pole  over  London 
JJridge  as  a  traitor'^  1  tell  you,  my  old  cove!  yiju'll 
lind  yourself  in  the  wrong  box  if  you  attempt  to  bully 
me/' 

"  By  heaven,  sir  I  do  you  dare  t(»  speak  to  my  uncle 
like  tbis?"  fiercely  exclaimed  J^isbrowo,  starting  to  \\\a 
feet. 

"  Yes,  my  yoimg  grandee  ;  and  to  you,  too.  Mind 
your  own  business,  t-ir,  and  sj)eak  when  you're  spoken 
to.  I  liavc  a  little  i)rivate  account  to  settle  with  you, 
l)efore  von  ^(\  home  to  see  your  dear  iXorma,  and  tell 
Jiow  you  anmsed  yourself  making  love  to  anotber  man's 
wife  all  the  tinio  you  were  in  America  !" 

There  was  so'.iething  in  the  last  words  that  struck 
tiiem  all  dumb.  ^Vilb  a  low,  irri'pres.siblc  ci-y,  dac- 
(pietta  reeled,  fell  on  a  sofa,  with  botb  bands  clas])ed 
bard  ovei'  lier  beart.  How  well  Disbrowe  knew  that 
gesture  now ! 

"All!  yon  mn.  feel — you  c<in  sulTer!  That  bolt 
goes  borne  to  your  ])roud  beart,  my  lady  !"  said  Captaiu 
Kick,  triumphantly. 


t  \ 

111 


"  I 


i    .)( 


272 


A    PROUD    HEART    CRUSHED. 


'   i 


'i  i  P 


"  O  mv  licart  I  wliat  docs  all  tliis  irican  ?  Oh  !  will 
no  one  tell  me  ("'  eried  Jaequetta,  passionately.  "  What 
liave  I  Haid— what  Jiav'C  I  <lonc  to  be  treated  like  this'i" 

"Ask  tliat  heart  you  liave  named.  Let  it  disclose 
your  guilt!*'  said  Mr.  l)e  Yere,  between  grief  and 
rage.     "  I  should  l)lush  to  s[)eak  it  !" 

Up  to  her  feet  she  sprang,  with  the  fearful  bound 
of  an  aroused  tigress — her  eyes  llashing  lire — her  lips 
and  cheelvs  white  as  ashes. 

"Guilt !—  ushamed  !  Mv.  Do  Yere,  I  command  you 
to  tell  me  of  wdiat  I  am  accused  !"'  she  said,  fiercely. 

"  What  an  actress  was  lost  in  you,  Miss  Jack!"  said 
the  ca])tain,  with  a  sneer. 

"Now,  flacfpietta,  i(\s  of  no  use,"'  said  drizzle,  in 
a  wheedling  tone.  "  You  know  just  as  well  as  he  does 
what  it  means,  and  it  is  only  a  waste  of  good  tragedy 
to  rant  and  lire  u])  like  this.  How  often  have  you  told 
mo  you  dreaded  this  day,  and  implored  me  on  your 
knee»  iu)t  to  tell  what  1  have  told  i  Calm  yourself, 
and  be  reasonable.  Vou  may  as  well  acknowledixo 
your  true  father,  and  drop  all  this  nonsense  at  once.  It 
imposes  on  no  one  now." 

"  That's  the  chat !"  said  the  ca])tain. 

She  looked  from  one  to  tlu.'  other,  like  a  wounded 
deer  with  the  hounds  at  its  throat. 

"O  my  (rod!  we  are  all  sinners,  and  none  inoro 
unworthy  than  1 !  IJut  what  have  1  done  to  deserve 
thisT 

There  was  a  passionate  solenunty  in  lier  tone  that 
thrilled  ihrough  every  heart.  DisI)rowe  rose,  as  white 
as  herself. 

"  This  is  base — this  is  unmanly — this  is  cruel  !  If 
(she  were  on  trial  for  life  she  would  be  told  her  crime, 
and  allowed  to  defend  herself.  Will  you  not  give  her 
the  same  pi-ivilege  as  a  public  malefactor  f 

"  She  knows  well  enough  ;  it's  all  sham  I  '  said 
Grizzle,  harshly.  She  can  play  I'ersecuted  In- 
nocence to  perfection  !" 

"Come!   I'll    ask    her    a    rpk'>tion,"    ;-aid   Captain 


A     PROUD     HEART     CRUSHED. 


273 


Nick,    ill   Iiis  Inillyinj:^  tono.     "TJii::lit  a])out    face,  Mi.^s 
or  Miidanie  Jacjuetta.     Look  at  vie — look  at  mo  well !" 


c; 


(t 


am  lookiiuc,  sir 


("' 


I 

Well  :  do  you  know  me?     Come,  now,  the  truth, 


the  whole  truth  and  notliiiiir  but  the  truth! 


'5 


U 


es,  Bir 


?> 


(( 


Ah  !  you  do !  Mark  that,  i\[r.   De   Verc.     Who 


am 


1,  tl 


len  ( 


•ii 


u 


Captain  Nick  Tempest — the  greatest  villain  un- 


iiun<r 


V") 


Tl 


le  answer  was  so  nnoxpected--so  completely 
different  from  anythinii;  he  had  looked  for,  that  the 
gallant  cn])tain  8;i?dv  hack  in  his  chair,  and  stared  at 
her,  perfectly  unable  to  utter  a  word. 

Grizzle  llowlct  "  grimu.'d  horribly  a  ghastly  smile" 
of  triumph  oyer  her  old  enemy,  and  mutt(M-ed  : 

"  Her  father's  daughter,  indeed  !  Thick  to  the  last!" 

And  Frank,  who  had  hitherto  stood  a  silent  and 
wondering  rpectator,  called  out,  delightedly  : 

''That's  yon,  Jack  ;  hit  him  again  !'' 

Mr,  De  Yerc's  brow  grew,  if  possible,  a  shade  more 
stern  than  it  had  been  before. 

"  Do  you  know  to  whom  you  are  s])eaking,  mistress  ? 
Let  him  be  ever  so  great  a  villain,  it  is  your  duty  to  bo 
respectful.  If  3'ou  think  to  raise  yourself  in  my  esti- 
mation by  any  display  like  this,  y(»u  are  greatly  mis- 
taken in  me,  young  iaily !  \  cannot  cease  to  forget  as 
easily  as  you  can,  that  there  is  a  commandment  which 
says  :  '']L)noi'  thy  father  and  thy  mothi'i',  that  thy  days 
may  be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Fiord  shall  give.'  '' 

"1  have  not  tried  to  raise  myself  in  your  estimation, 
Mr.  Do  Vere.  J  never  yet  sued  for  the  gcKKl  opinion 
of  any  one,  and  I  shall  not  begin  now!  Nei^herean  I 
see  lio\y  the  commaiul  just  <pii»tc(l  can  apply  to  the 
])resent  case  in  the  renHjtest  degree." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  ]\[r.  De  Vere,  rising  to 
his  feet,  and  sternly  confronting  her,  '"  that  you  do  not 
know  that  man  'T 

She  met  his  angry  gaze  unllinchingly  : 

12* 


r! 


1^3- 


t 

1-1* 


wpagggwiBWi 


m 


«• 


I 


M 

I 


!♦ 


f 


1 


274 


A    PROUD    UEMIT     CRUSIIIW. 


"I  iiicjui  to  say  no  siicli  tliinji^,  sir!  I  do  know 
liiui  fjnite  as  well  as  I  am  anxious  to  know  liini,  or  any 
one  of  liis  chiss !" 

"  I'ake  care   wc  are  not  better    acquainted  beforo 

lon^*,  my  pretty  little  dear!  'Any  one  of  his  class,'  for- 

\  jootli  !  To  what  class  (\o  you  belong,  it"  it  conies  to  that, 

my  hi^li  and  nii<(]ity  little  princess  royarsl"  sneered  the 

captain. 

"  \  ou  jirevaricate,  younii;  lady.  AVill  you  tell  nic 
in  what  I'elation  he  staiids  to  you  C 

"■ 'J'hat's  it !  You  have  her  now,  squire!  Di'ivc  lier 
into  the  corner,  where  she  can't  dod<j;e  !''  cried  the  cap- 
tain, deliixhtedly. 

"•'  Silence,  fellow  !"  anu'i'ily  exclaimed  Mr.  De  Vere. 
"I  await  y<»nr  answer,  madam.'' 

'*J  do  not  understand  you,  sir.  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  that  man  is  any  relation  to  me  ^" 

"  That  is  an  Irish  way  ot  answcri!)g  my  question, 
and  looks  very  much  like  a  t.hullling  evasion  !  Now  I 
will  put  the  (juestion  diri'ct.  I  siip[)oseyou  do  not  need 
to  be  told  that  I  am  not  youi-  latlier  !'' 

Her  face  turned  dark-crimson  for  an  instant,  and 
tiicn  whiter  than  before, 

"I  mean  not  your  own  father,"  he  observed,  hastily. 

"  No,  sir."' 

Tiiere  was  a  simultiineous  exclamation  from  Jacinto, 
DisbroWi',  and  Frank  ;  but,  no  one  noticed  them,  and 
Mr.  De  \'ere  went  on  : 


(( 


lien,  as  every  one  has  a 


fatl 


ler 


ivimr  or 


dead, 


perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  who  yours 
really  is'i" 

"  It   is   late   to   ask  that   qncsti(»n.     You  know  as 
much  of  the  matter  as  I  do  I'' 


Caj)tain  Tcm])e>l  AvMstU'cl. 


U  'V 


ii 


u 


J'hen  you  <leny  all  knowledge  of  your  father? 
1  do,  sir.    ]  know  <d'  no  c-uch  i)erson  in  the  worl 


•Id 


O  Jacquetta  !"  exclaimed  Old  Cirizzle,  holding  up 


her  hands  in  holy  horror 


u 


What  do  you  moan,  you  hag — you  miu'deres^^ — 


Ij::^ 


A    PROUD    UEART     CRUSHED. 


275 


you 


Jezebel  V  exelaiiiied    Jaequetta,    turning 
furiously  upon  licr.     "  Do  you  dare  to  say  I  lie?" 

And   she   gl;ired   ujion   her   hke  a  young  honess, 


second 

lOUS 


ready  to  sprin 


<)". 


Jaequetta  De  Yere,  you  know  you  do !"  said 
Grizzle,  boldly. 

"  Come,  madam,  no  savage  outbursts  of  passion 
here,"  sternly  intei'posed  Mr.  I)e  \(iyc.  "  A\^hen  you 
leave  Fontelle,  you  may  take  to  iisticuffs  as  soon  as  you 
please;  l)ut,y(ju  will  be  good  enough,  both  of  you,  to  re- 
Btrj'Mi  your  natural  inelinarlons  in  my  presence.  Once 
again — and  for  tlit;  last  time,  Jaequetta — do  you  mean 
to  say  you  do  not  know  who  your  father  is  V 

"  I  do  not.  l>y  heaven  and  all  its  hosts,  I  swear 
it!"  she  passionately  cried. 

"  Then  behold  him  here  !"  exclaimed  j\[r.  De  Vcre, 
pointing  to  Ca])tain  Tempest,  who  arose  to  his  feet, 
triumphant.  ''  ()  fidsest  of  the  false  !  That  you,  whom 
I  ])elieved  the  soul  of  fn.nkness  and  honf)r,  could  be 
guilty  of  such  mean  deception  as  tlii>!  And  to  think 
tliat  1  should  have  been  so  poor  a  diipe,  to  be  foiled  by 
a  smiling  face  and  asmooth  tongue  I  Oh  !  nevei'till  now 
did  I  realize  '  how  fair  an  outside;  falsehood  hath  !'  " 

There  was  a  crv  from  all,  atid  a  unanimous  risino'to 

1  if 

their  feet.  Jr.ccpietta  stood  like  one  ])etriru!d — turned 
into  stone.  Mr.  De  X'ere  steridy  waved  them  back, 
and  went  on : 

"Your  very  countenance  (vmvicts  you;  for  you 
have  yov.r  lather's  face!  And  to  think  I  shoidd  have 
ever  cherished  the  spaw!i  «>f  such  a  vi[)cr  !  to  th'.nhyou 
could  have  known  this,  and  acted  a  living  lie  all  thoc 
years  under  my  very  eyes! — that  you  should  have  held 
secret  meetings  with  tliis  man,  and  given  him  nu)ney — 
my  money — pilfered  from  me,  to  j»ay  him  and  this 
wretched  old  woman  to  keej)  your  si^cret !  Jlad  you 
told  mc;  he  was  your  father,  in  time  1  might  even  have 
overlooked  tin;  disgrace  of  having  the  child  of  such  a 
wretch  connected  with  my  family  ;  but  now  I  can  never 
believe,  or  trust,  or  forgive  you  I    The  dauguter  ol  suou 


.».  n 


'\ 


i.i  w 


1-1* 


I, , 

■ 
« 


* 


^!l   ! 


Hi 


■^liii 


276 


A    PROUD    IIKAHT    G RUSHED. 


a  fatlier — of  sucli  a  inoflior,  heariiii^  my  naino  !  Oh  ! 
low  indocd  have  I  fallen  wlien  1  have  lived  to  sec  such 
a  day  !'' 

lie  strode  up  and  down  tlic  rooni,  like  one  heside 
himself  with  ^^I'ief,  I'a^e,  and  humiliation.  Still  she 
stood  like  one  turninii'to  stone — mute,  voiceless,  motion- 
less. iSlie  had  had  a  vaii'ut'  expectation  of  something 
terrihlc,  hut  uotliinL::  like  this.  !She  passed  lier  hand 
over  lier  eyes,  like  one  in  a  dream. 

"Come,  Jaccpietta,  have  done  witli  this,"  said  Ca])- 
tain  Kick,  rougldy.  '"  AVe  havi;  had  enouii;h  of  this 
fooling.  I'm  your  father,  and  that's  the  end  of  it. 
And,  what's  more,  you  know  it,  and  there  is  no  use 
trying  to  hack  out.  Come,  he  a  good  girl,  and  don't  he 
ashamecl  of  the  old  man,  who  is  ready  to  stand  hy  you 
while  there  is  a  shot  in  the  locker,  or  a  timher  of  this 
old  hulk  liangs  together." 

His  voice  aroused  her  fiom  her  trance,  and,  looking 
at  him  lixedly,  she  turned  to  (irrizzle,  and  s'lid,  calmly  : 

"  l^oa  ought  to  know.  Do  n<.t  deceive  me  now,  hut 
tell  me.     /s'  lie  my  father  C 

"  You  know  he  is.  What's  the  good  of  asking !" 
said  (irizzle,  in  an  impatient  yet  somewhat  suhdued 
tone,  for  there  was  that  in  the  voung  girl's  very  calni- 

1  11  ./rat?  ./ 

ness  that  awed  her. 

"Then  it  has  come  to  this,  at  last !  I  knew  this 
pleasant  dream  could  n(»t  last  forever!" 

"  Jhit  you  thought  to  keep  itolf  as  long  aspossihle," 
said  ]Mr.  i)e  Vere,  sarcastically.  "  A  lew  falsehoods, 
more  or  less,  m.idc  little  ditference  to  vou." 

"God  forgive  you,  i\[r.  JJe  Vere !  From  you,  at 
least,  I  have  not  deserved  this.'' 

"No — you  liave  dcserve<l  )!Mich  consideration,  uiuch 
kindness,  from  me!  O  ialse  heart!  that  1  should  ever 
have  l^elieved  you  true  !" 

"  You  think  me  then  a  liar  and  an  impostor'^" 

Sometliing  in  her  tone  moved  him  ;  and  he  looked 
in  the  little,  sorrowt'id  face  and  heseeching  (')\'i^,  with 
tiieir  pitiful  l<.H)k,  so  \(}v\  .s;id  to  see  ini'vcs  so  proud  as 


A    PltOUl)    IIIJMIT     a  HUSHED. 


hers.     But  the  moinory  of  Jill    Grizzle   had  told  him, 
bearini^  so  powoi-fiilly  the  impress  of  truth,  came  back 


to  h 


;i 
S 


hiin  ;  and  vierviiii;  himseit  witli  remeinberea  wrongs, 
he  savagely  answered : 

"lilof" 

Her  clasp  d  hands  dropped. 

"Once  more — (lod  forgive  you,  Mr.  Do  Verc  !"' 

'•pray  for  yourself,"'  he  said,  haughtily.  "You 
need  forgiveiiei-s  as  much  as  me."' 

"May  1  go  r  she  said,  wearily  dropping  her  head. 
''  I  am  tired  and  sick!  I  never  meant  to  wrong  yon  ; 
and  if  you  would  only  believe  that,  1  could  forget  the 
rest." 

"  I  do  vot  believe  it,  Jac<pietta  !  I  can  never  be- 
lieve you  more  ;  you  have  deceived  me  too  long  and 
too  often  for  that.'' 

h^he  leaned  heavily  against  a  chair. 

"]\[aylgo^  Will  you  not  s[)are  me?  You  are 
breaking  my  heai't  I" 

"Let  it  break!  You  will  be  all  the  better  for  it, 
since  it  is  so  decci^fnl  I  No,  you  shall  not  go  yet.  You 
have  not  heard  all.      '\'(»ur  sins  have  found  you  out." 

"  Go  on!      1  am  listening  I" 

"  Where  is  my  son's  child  i  Where  is  this  child  of 
yours,  whose  exisience  you  have  concealed  so  long  f' 

"Mr.  l)e  Vi-re!" 

"Oh!  start,  and  look,  and  coin  fresh  lies!  T  know 
vou  of  old,  madam  !  Deny  it,  as  you  did  your  father! 
VVhat  an  unnatui'al  heart  you  must  have,  daccpietta, 
to  denv  the  existence  of  voiu*  own  child,  that  1  mi'dit 
leave  all  my  wealth  to  }ou!  Answer  me,  where  is 
my  son's  child  i" 

"  It  is  dead  !     It  died  the  day  of  its  birth  !" 

"It  is  false!"  said  (iri/zle,  sternly.     '•  It  lives!'" 

"  You  hear  that!"  said  Mr.  De  Yere,  triumj)hantly. 
"  Yoiu'  very  conl'e<lerates  have  turned  against  you! 
Add  no  more  falsehoods  to  the  rest.  My  grandchild 
lives." 

Aixain  that  bewildered  look  came  over  her. 


♦  • 


i 


w 


\ 


fi 

i 
1 

] 


I! 


\ 

i 

i' 
i 

{; 

'! 

|M 

1 

1  ; 

278 


/I     PROUD    HE  ART     CRUSHED. 


"I  ain  ^'olng  crnzy,  I  tliink  !  You  told  me  it  was 
dead,"  she  said,  tiimin^ijj  to  (irizzle. 

'' I  never  did.  You  paid  me  tor  taking  care  of  it 
and  concealing  its  exir-teiice  !" 

Her  eye  turned  iiivolunvarilv  upon  Orrie. 

"Yes,  Zw/.'/"  said  ]\Ir.  l)e  Vere,  bitterly.  "How 
well  you  know  who  it  is  I  Does  she  not  bear  her 
father's  faee'f 

''Is  she  my  child  r' 

"Pau'rh!  von  sicken  me  with  this  acting!  As  if 
you  needed  to  be  told  whose  child  she  was!  IS2)eak — 
acknowledge  the  ti'uth  !" 

"It  is  us(>less!     Y(»u  would  not  believe  me." 

"Speak,  I  command  you  !  I  have  a  right  to  know! 
is  she  not  your  daughter  C 

"She  maybe.  1  do  not  know.  My  heart  always 
told  me  we  were  more  than  strangers." 

"Oh!  it  did?  I  am  ghid  your  licart  knew  liow  to 
tell  the  truth  for  once,  ;is  it  does  not  seem  to  be  gener- 
ally in  the  habit  of  doing  mj!  So,  J\liss  Jac(pu?tta  De 
Vere,  of  Fontelle  Hail,  has  found  a  father  in  the  out- 
lawed Cai)tain  Xiek  Tempest,  and  a  daughter  in  old 
Grizzle  II owlet's  ^'/v>(Yv//y',  all  in  the  same  day  ^" 

She  dro])pLMl  her  face  in  her  hiuids,  with  a  low, 
bitter  cry  that  could  not  be  rc^pressed.  Every  one 
present  sat  mute,  waiting  for  what  was  to  come  next. 
Mr.  De  \'ere's  bi-ow  did  not  relax  ;  for,  like  all  slow  to 
anger,  he  was  still  slower  to  forgive.  His  lip  curled 
scornfully  as  he  looked  on  the  little,  droo[)ing  ligurc 
and  bowed  head,  ouw  so  high  and  haughty. 

"So  von  can  feel  shame?  you  can  feel  I'cmorse  ? 
yon  can  feci  humiliation  f 

"  I  am  not  ashamed  !" 

"I  am  Sony  to  hear  it!  l)Ut  T  forgot — those  who 
stoop  to  deception  as  you  have  done,  seldom  feel 
shame." 

She  raised  her  head  and  clasped  her  hands. 

"Oh,  my  (rod!"  she  said,  as  the  words  of  the 
dying  cardinal  came  to  her  mind,  "if  I  had  loved  Thee 


A   rnouj)  in: ART   crushed. 


279 


as  I  linvc  loved  this  man,  Tliou  wonlcFst  not  have  cast 


me  r» 


irti 


lUS 


r' 


TI 


icre  was  a 


pause 


which  no  one  seemed  inclined  to 


break.     She  rose  to  her  feet  at  last. 


a 


don 


Is   there   anything    more?      "What   else   have   I 


■>'> 


Ah  !  yon  are  anxious  to  he  fj:one  ;  but  I  have  not 
quite  done  with  you  yet.  Why  did  you  never  tell 
me  what  soil  of  a  mother  you  had 


I  did  not  think  it  necessary.     It  could  have  done 


no 


good. 


'•  Oh,  so  you  do  not  deny  that?  AVell,  I  am  glad 
you  perceive  the  necessity  of  speak- ing  the  truth,  at 
last !  You  did  not  think  it  necessary  (  No,  I  dare  say 
not!  You  took  good  care  1  should  not  know  it !" 

''  Must  1  answer  for  my  mother's  sins  V 

*'  Yes;  '  tlie  sins  of  the  father  sliull  be  visited  on  the 
cliildrcu,  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  generations,' 
saith  the  Lord."' 

"  Yovi  can  (piotc  Scripture  against  me,  too.  Heaven 
and  earth  seem  to  have  lorsaken  me  alike  !  Ah,  well ! 
let  it  be  !     AVliat  else,  Mr.  iJe  V(.'re  r 

"•  The  worst  of  all!''  he  said,  in  a  low,  passionate 
voice.     "  You  have  been  unfaithful  to  your  marriage 


vow 


r' 


Her  white  face  turned  crimson,  and  she  started  like 
one  who  has  i-eceived  a  spear-thrust  through  the  heart. 
Turning  for  the  iirst  time  toward  Di&browe,  she  gave 
him  a  look  he  nevrr  forgot. 

"O  coward  and  traitor  !  Is  this  your  revenge  ?" 

"IJa!  'J'hen  he  knows,  too  f '  cried  Mr.  De  Ye  re, 
eagerly.  ''I  did  doubt  that,  but  this  coniirms  it !  Then 
you  <(/'('  guilty  '^" 

"  Wliat  Jias  he  told  you  V  she  cried  fiercely. 

A  llu^li  of  haughly  aiigcrand  liumiHation  tinged  the 
handsome  face  of  l)isl)ro\ve,  ijut  he  said  notliing. 

"Jlc?     lie  has  told  me  nothing." 

"  It  is  false  T  siie  (*ried,  forgetting  in  her  passion  all 


\A 


l\ 


,  \ 

1" 

•"   f'ill 
I  .  iim 

K  m 
1  I 

J 
i  ^1 


r  ; 


^/m 


il   *^"'f 


■i 


!t  ,; 


280  A    PROUD    HIJAnr     CUUHIIED. 

respect  for  licr  questioner.  ''  He  imist  liiivc  told  you  1 
]l^0  one  else  knew — *' 

She  checked  herself  and  ui^'aiii   ruriied  scarlet. 

"  Knew  what^'  said  Mr.  JJe  V'ere,  with  a  piercing 
glance. 

She  made  a  frenzied  gesture  like  one  goaded  to 
desi)erati<)n. 

"  I  will  not  tell !  Suspect  what  you  like!  You  have 
laid  this  trap  to  ensjiare  me  !  [  can  fall  no  lower  in 
your  eyes  than  I  luive  falliMi  now.  Thitdv  me  as  guilty 
as  yoii  please,  the  whole  of  you  !  I  am  ruined  and  dis- 
graced, and  it  matters  little  what  becomes  of  me,  now  !'' 

"Then  you  do  not  deny  it  V  he  said,  significantly. 

"  I  deny  iiotliinii: !  1  ac^knowledjj^e  notliiuij: !  You 
think  me  lost,  body  and  soul  I  Think  so  still,  but  let  me 


go 


• 

"  AVhat,  without  your  dear  friend  ?  Come  hither,  sir 
Spaniard  !  Is  it  the  custom  in  your  country,  when  a 
wounded  stranger  is  received  into  a  man's  house,  to  re- 
turn his  kindness  as  you  have  returned  milled' 

"  Wliat  has  he  done  f'  demanded  Jacquetta,  coming 
over  and  laying  lier  hand,  lialf-caressiugly,  half-pro- 
tectingly,  half-deliantly,  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  and 
looking  aromxl  like  a  stag  at  bay. 

'"  Nay,  JacijiK'tta,  you  would  not  have  me  answer 
that  (juestion,  1  trust  <  lint,  Alfred,  I  must  have  an 
explanation  from  you  I     What  do  you  know  f 

"  Ts'othing,  sir." 

"Nothing  that  you  choose  to  tell,  you  mean? 
Alfred  Disbrowe,  I  conmiand  you  to  tell!  This — this 
— person  is  my  son's  wife,  and  1  have  a  I'ight  to  know  !" 

"I  have  nothing  to  tell,  sir,"  said  Uisbrowe,  so 
stunned  by  all  he  had  lunird,  that  he  scarcely  knew 
whether  he  were  dri'aming  or  waking. 

"You  have!"  said  daccjuetta,  in  a  ringing  voice. 
"  Deny  it  not !     Tell  all  you  know  !'' 

'"  You  have  accused  me  of  doing  that  already  !"  he 
said,  wiHi  a  hiiuglity  bow. 

"  Then  vou  have  not  told  i" 


i  \  : 


A     PROUD     UEAUT     CRUSHED. 


lie  only  replied  by  a  look.  lie  would  not  answer 
Piieli  a  cliari^e. 

"  All !  and  I  have  wronged  you  !  I  am  sorry  !  Will 
you  forgive  nie  C 

"■  I  luiv(>  iK^tliiiii;  to  fornfive." 

"  No  ;  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  stooi)in_j?  to  forgive 
po  lost  a  wreteh  as  J.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  he  saw, 
Mr.  De  Vere,  since  he  will  not  C 

"A.-  you  please.      It  matters  little." 

"  Jae(pietta  !"  -aid  the  hoy,  in  a  treinhling  voice. 

"  Hush  I  fc;ir  not!  Then  through  the  door  of  this 
boy's  vo(m\  he  saw  me  hiss  him  I"' 

"  Ah  !" 

"  How  very  indiscreet  of  you  to  leave  the  door  open," 
said  Grizzle,  with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug. 

Jacinto  started  up. 

"  Jacrpietta,  I  will  tell  !     I  will !" 

"Do  at  you  peril !     Xot  one  word,  sir!" 

"  Ihit— " 

"  Not  a  word  !     I  will  never  forgive  you  if  yon  do." 

The  boy  hid  his  lace  in  his  hands  with  a  groan. 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  say,  young  sir,  out  with 
it !"  said  Mr.  De  Wtc,  sternly. 

Again  Jacinto  started  nj). 

"Oh!  Jaccpu^tta,  I  nmst !  It  was  my  fault,  and  I 
will  take  the  conse(pieMces.  I  will  tell !  I  must  tell  ! 
I  cannot  bear  to  t"  ink  I  was  the  cause  of — ■" 

"You  are  the  (  '.st>of  nothinL»: — in  mvixuiltand  mv 
degradation  I  stand  alone!  From  ail  blame  you  are 
free!  You  can  say  nothing  that  will  free  me  from  the 
crime  of  having  such  a  fathei-,  such  a  mother,  and  such 
a  child  !  I  am  the  daughter  of  an  outlaw  and  a  villain, 
ruined  and  disgraced  !  Ruined  and  disgraced  I — it  has 
an  ugly  sound  ;  but  it  is  the  truth,  thouirh  I  may  never 
have  spoken  it  before.  (n>od-bve,  mv  iriend,  vou  at 
least,  believe  me  innocent  of  one  crime  with  which  I 
have  been  chargetl,  and  that  is  something,  ^[r.  De 
Vere,  what  next?  I  do  not  wish  to  troul)le  you  but  as 
short  a  time  as  I  can.     I  await  your  connnands  to  go.'' 


M 


i 


t     £     i> 


I  i  <  \ 


t'\ 


\\ 


■    t 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


Y 


^ 


^ 


^ 


// 


'Ls. 


{./ 


V  m^.. 


.<? 


'F  i^^ 


% 


:/. 


C/j 


e 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


>-  IM    IIIII2  2 

.':  m   IIIII2.0 


1.8 


U    III  1.6 


^*.y, 


'n 


'm 


.</ 


^^ 


O 


/ 


§5s 


e 


^ 


/(S 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


MtaMmnMMMMMMM 


it 


282 


A     rilOVD    HEART     CRUSIIIW. 


Am 


.-'  4 


t"-A 


"It  w'll  come  presently.  Jacqiiotta  De  Von*,  T  am 
eorry  for  you/- 

"  Tliere  is  no  need,  sir.     Wiiat  docs  it  matter?" 

"What  will  become  of  you  when  you  leave  here  V 

She  smiled. 

"I  am  a  small  ixlrl,  sir;  and  in  the  Potter's  Field 
there  is  room  for  another  vaurant." 

Some  of  the  old  love  he  had  felt  for  her  came  back, 
as  he  saw  that  hiint,  cold  smile. 

"Oh!  Ja('qu(*tta,  why  have  you  done  this?  Why 
were  you  so  deceitful  C 

"  We  will  not  speak  of  it,  sir,  if  you  please.  I  do 
not  think  1  can  quite  Ijear  it  yc^t.  Fon>-('t  the  past,  and 
think  of  me  as  you  have  learned  to  do  to-day." 

"  Jaccpietta,  M'as  it  for  his  home  and  wealth  you 
married  my  unfortunate  son?" 

"  I  had  rather  not  answer  that  question.  You  liave 
already  answered  it  to  yorr  own  satisfaction;  and 
nothini;;  a  conlirmed  liar,  such  as  1  am,  can  say,  is  to  bo 
believed." 

"  ^'ou  were  only  a  child  then — a  little  child  !  Was 
duplicity  born  with  you,  Jaccpietta?" 

"  Very  likely,  sii'.     Yon  for<^-et  my  mother." 

"Ah,  true  !"  His  brow  darkened  again.  "And  so 
you  will  <^o  with  this  man?" 

"  lie  is  my  father,  sir." 

"Oh  I  you  a(*kiiowledii(>  it  iit  last — do  you?  youun- 
dutiful  little  minx!"  growled  the  captain. 

"Is  tiie  list  of  my  crimes  ended,  Mr.  De  Vere  ? 
AVhen  may  1  go  ?" 

"  As  soon  as  you  please.  I  will  ring  and  give  or- 
ders to  have  your  things  packed  u})." 

"  iS"o,  sir,  you  Avill  not !  Hare  and  ])enniless  as  I 
came  to  rontelle,  1  will  leave  it  !  (lood-bye,  JM.r.  Do 
Vcrc;  you  were  a  kind  friend  to  me  always,  iuid  I  shall 
pray  God  to  forgive  you  for  flu;  wrong  you  have  done 


me  this  d 


i.y 


II 


e  IS  more  mcM'ci 


I'ul  ll 


lan  mail,   and  per- 


...  .  ,  P 

Laps  he  may  lorgive  even  soloht  a  sinner  as  I  am."  Her 

voice  trembled  a  little  as  she  moved  one  step  away. 


A     PROUD    HE  ART     CllUSUED. 


283 


:ill 


"  Olio  thing  furtlier.  Since  tliis  is  iiiy  cliild  may  slie 
not  como  ^vit!l  nic  i  JScitliersho  nor  I  will  ever  trouble 
you  niiuin." 

"•  No  !"'  p;ii'l  Mr.  De  A^cre,  "my  grandchild  Slavs  in 
Fontellc  Jlair;" 

'"  I  cannot  givo  her  np  so!''  she  said  passionately — 
"slie  is  all  1  have  kit  to  love!  Orrie,  /  am  your 
mother,  \\'\\\  \<n\  nr,\  coiiio  with  me;!*' 

That  pleading  smiie;  that  (juivcring  lip— liow  piti- 
ful thev  were  to  see  ! 

"1  am  your  graiKH'iitln'r,  my  child,  I i"  you  will 
stay  with  me  y<ju  .•-hail  \'wo  here  and  he  a  lady.  You 
shall  have  everything  your  heai't  can  desire." 

Orrie  looked  from  oni>  to  the  other,  and  then  up  at 
Dishf'owe,  on  who>e  kne(>  she  still  sat.  His  face  was 
averted,  hut  he  held  her  closer  in  his  arms. 

"  Will  he  stav,  too  f  slie  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  'Mr.  De  Vere. 

"  Then  so  will  1  !"  said  Orrie.     "  \  won't  go  !" 

Something  faded  <»nt  of  ihe  face  of  .laccpietta — it 
could  not  be  coloi-,  lor  ^lu>  was  deadly  white  ;  it  was  as  if 
a  nickering  light  had  gone  out  from  a  lanij).  She  \)\\t 
one  trembling  hand  up  before  her  f;ice  without  a  word. 

"The  last  unkindest  cut  of  all,"  quoted  (Ja])taiii 
Tempest,  touched  in  sjiite  of  himself. 

"King  the  bell,  Frank,  and  tell  lv(\ynolds  to  servo 
dinner  instantly,"  said  Mr.  I)e  Vere,  coldly. 

Jacquetta  lifted  her  white  face,  and  made  a  step  to- 
wards the  door.  ( 'a])tain  Tempest,  Grizzle,  and  Jacinto, 
rose  too.     IS'o  one  else  moved. 

She  reached  thi^  door;  she  i)aused  on  the  thresh- 
old, her  face  worked  convulsively,  and  she  turned 
back,  with  a  great  ciy. 

"  I  cannot  go  like  this!  Will  no  one  pay  good-bye 
to  mc  before  I  leave  C 

"  Cei-tainlv,"  said  Mi-.  ])<•  Vere,  "  irood-bvo.  And 
in  the  future  i  liopii  you  will  learn  to  1)0  true!" 

"And  that  is  all  i  And  this  is  what  1  have  loved 
so  welW     Oh!  my   heart!    this  is    the  hardest  of  all! 


m 


I  i  ■ 

I 


i'i 


i^.,. 


r     : 


'^ 


,1 


^^ 


^^s 


wess^B 


l!l 


hi 


.1 1  i 


284 


A    PROUD    HEART     CRUSHED. 


m 


i\  I 


j  i 


i^  !    ' 


II 


I 


\ 


! 


It 


.^i 


l 
hi 


t 


Aiii^nsta,  Orriu,  Disl)rowG — silent  all !  And  joii,  too, 
Frank,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  sorrowful  reproacli. 
"And  I  trnstcd  to  you." 

There;  was  a  great  sob  from  Frank,  and  the  next 
moment  he  was  r)ver.  holdinu^  her  in  his  arms,  and 
llashinu^  delianee  at  all  the  rest. 

"it's  a  shame  !  it's  a  blamed  shame!  it's  a  horrid 
shame!  and  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it!  They  have 
no  business  to  (reat  you  so !"'  said  Frank,  with  some- 
thinic  lil^^'  Ji  howl  of  minii:led  y-rief  and  raire. 

^iie  smiled  sadly. 

'"Then  you  do  love  me  a  little,  yet,  Frank  V 

"  Ves,  1  do!  and  L  always  will,  too!  I  don't  believe 
a  siniijle  thini;'  they  said  about  you,  and  I  never  will 
belie; ve  it  so  lonii;  as  I  live — handed  if  I  do  !'' 

Thei'e  is  something  touching  in  a  boy's  grief —it  is 
so  honest  and  hearty  and  outspoken,  and  conies  so 
straight  from  the  heai't.  It  would  have  brought  tears 
to  Jac(pietta's  eyes  if  anything  could;  hut  she  had 
none  to  shed — slie  felt  like  a  stone,  yet  with  such  a 
dreadful  pain  at  her  heart. 

"Goo(ld)ye,  my  dear  1'' rank,  my  brother  !  and  do 
not  quite  forget  dacquetta!" 

Lrank  was  sobbing  away  in  good  earnest.  Jacinto 
had  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  to  hide  the  tears  that  fell 
hot  and  fast.  Augusta  lay  perfectly  still — for  a  deadly 
sickness  h;ul  her,  and  she  had  faintt'd,  though  they  knew  it 
not.  Disbrowc  sat  like  a  ligure  of  marble,  with  hiti 
face  hiddcMi  in  his  hand,  and  the  l'>'>g  locks  of  his 
falling  hair.  ]Mr.  De  Vere  was  cold  and  stern  as  a 
Spartan  father  condt'mning  his  oidy  son  to  death. 

''Farewcill  to  all  I"  said  dactjuetta,  gently,  "who 
1oV(hI  me  oiu'cl      I'arcwell  to  old  l'\»ntellel'' 

She  turned  away.  'JMii;  rest  went  after  her.  There 
was  a  few  monu'nts  deathdike  pause,  and  then  they 
heard  the  luUl-door  heavily  closed,  and  something  in 
each  heart  crashed  with  it.  They  knew  then  that 
Jacquetta— bright,  beautiful  dac(pietta — the  gay, sunny, 
liouBchold-fairy,  had  left  I'ontelle  forever! 


''HE     GIVETU    HIS    BELOVED     SLEEPS      285 


ClixiPTErv   XXI. 


**HE   GIVETII   Ills   BELOVED   SLEEP." 


"  Lord  Heron  he  dwells  in  his  castle  higli, 
Kosaliiid  sleeps  on  the  moor  below, 
He  loved  to  live,  and  she  loved  to  die, 

Which  loved  the  truest  the  angels  know." 

— Ballad. 


1^ 


L4< 


R.   DE  VERE  arose  and  made  a  gesture,  aa 
if  castin<»:  sornetliiii<jr  from  him. 

"•  It  is  goiu! — eu  18  8hc,  and  peace  go  with 
her!  Frank,  is  diimer  ready  f 

''  I  don't  know ;  and,  what's  more,  I 
don't  care !"'  liowled  Frank,  wiping  his  eyes  and  nose 
furiously,  in  lii?^  [n'ief. 

"  Francis  i"  e.\claiiacd  his  uncle,  in  angry  dis- 
pleasui'e. 

"I  don't,  tlien — not  one  bii  !  You  treated  Jack 
shamefully,  and  I  d(.)n't  care  if  yon  turn  me  out  of 
doors  for  saying  it.  Fm  bhuned  it'  I  don't  go  anyway  ! 
I'll  run  olf  and  go  to  sea — I'll  eidist.  You  sei^  if  I 
don't!  You  iiad  no  business  to  treat  Jack  so !''  said 
Frank,  witli  another  howl. 
"Francis!" 

"Goini>'  and  believinij:  that  old  Ivinii;  (rrizzle  Flow- 
let,  and  ready  to  swear  to  everything  she  said,  and 
snapping  up  »Iack  without  giving  her  a  chance  1o  say 
a  word  for  hcrseli'I  1  say  it's  a  shanu^ !  a  blauKjd 
shame!  And  it"  1  had  known  that  was  what  you 
wanted  of  her,  I  shouldn't  have  gone  one  toot;  no, 
not  if  you  were  to  hang,  draw,  and  (juarter  me  for  it !" 

"  I  don't  believe  she  vvov  did  one  sinde  thin;'  lliat 


ff- 


f' 


■     r 


f  ■      ' 


I 


i.    iil      i 


.  I  "■ 


I  r 


'  »■ 


rs**" 


iHi 


1 1 


3v  , 


286       ''HE     G I  VET  II    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP.'' 

jou  said  slie  did — <'nly  slio  was  too  proud  to  deny  it, 
wlieii  slio  saw  you  heliovcd  that  liatctul,  old,  w^^y 
Motlifi-  llowlt't  raster  than  her,"  vociferated  Fraidc, 
raiitiiii:^  furiously  uj)  and  down  tlie  room.  "And  tliat 
okl  scoundrel,  Nick  Tempest,  too,  i^oiufj^  and  saying 
she  was  his  daui;htf'r — the  old  villain!  1  should  like 
to  know  wliat  everybody  will  say  wlieii  they  hear  how 
you've  treated  Jier,  and  turned  lier  out  of  doors.  I 
should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  ever  to  show  your 
face  a^^nn.  Uncle  Iwob !" 

"  Francis !'' 

"Oh,  you  may  '  Francis'  as  nnicli  as  you  like,  but 
I  don't  care!  I  will  say  just  what  I  think,  if  you 
wore  a  dozen  uncles  ten  times  over.  I  snp])ose  people 
thiidc  boys  oui^ht  to  sit  with  their  lini>:ers  in  their 
moutlis,  and  never  say  a  word,  just  because  tliey  are 
boys,  as  if  they  could  lielp-tliat!  I  tell  you,  Uncle 
Rob,  if  1  was  you,  1  would  be  ashamed  ever  to  show 
my  face  aijain  !  And  you  a  justice  of  tlie  peace,  too ! 
A  pretty  j\istice  of  the  peace  you  are,  aiding  and 
abetting  r(jbl)ers  and  murderesses  !" 

"  Leave  the  room,  sir!" 

"  J'm  going  to,  and  tlie  house,  too,  if  you  like ;  and 
I  will  say  again  and  again  that  it  was  a  shame  !" 

"  Will  you  be  silent,  and  leave  the  room f 

"  I'm  a  going  to  ;  but  I  say  again  and  <i<jain^  it  was 
a  sliame  !  It  was  a  shame — there  !  It  was  a  shame — 
there  !     It  was  a  shame — now  then  !" 

Mr.  De  Vere  sprang  up  in  a  I'age,  collared  the 
intre])id  Frank,  and  shook  him  till  he  was  lu'eathless. 

"'JNow,  will  you  say  it  f '  he  exclaimed  between  his 
teeth. 

''It — w-a-a-s  a  sh-a-a-me,  there !"  said  Frank,  be- 
tween his  chattering  teeth. 

J\lr.  De  Vere  seized  the  bell-cord,  and  rang  a  peal 
that  brought  up  Uiniiolds. 

"  Here,  Reynolds,  tidve  this  fellow  off,  and  lock  him 
up  in  his  room,  and  bring  me  the  key.'' 

Mr.  Reynolds,  who  would  have  manifested  no  sur- 


S    ! 


•  !*' 


"77^     GIVETH    Ills    BELOVED    SLEEPS       287 


1 


pvii^e,  and  \voiil<l  [)r()l);il)ly  li;ivi3  obeyed  without  a  word, 
it"  Jiis  luastei*  had  told  him  to  heliead  liiiii,  hiaiully 
seized  Frank,  and  hciran  (hM,ii'i!;inu^  liini  olT,  wliile  that 
yonni^  jrentleniaii  icieked  and  striiu'^led  manfully.  J3ut 
kicks  and  struii-gles  were  of  no  avail,  lieynolds  was  get- 
ting the  best  of  the  battle. 

"It  was  a  shame — there !"  yelled  Frank,  as  Iley- 
nolds  pulled  him  through  the  door. 

Orrie,  who  saw  something  exqnisitely  ludicrous  in 
the  whole  scene,  gave  vent  to  a  shrill  peal  of  laughter 
at  the  youth's  discomliture. 

"  JJinner  is  served,  sir,"  said  another  servant,  throw- 
ing o])en  the  door. 

"  V^ery  well!  Augusta,  will  you  take  my  arm?" 
said  her  father,  rising. 

But  Augusta  s})oke  not — moved  not. 

"  Augusta  !''  he  said,  in  alarm. 

There  was  no  reply. 

He  went  over,  lifted  her  head,  and  saw  the  closed 
eyes,  and  corpse-like  face. 

"  Good  heavens  !  she  has  fainted  I''  he  cried  in  con- 
sternation. Aiid  once  more  seizing  the  bell-rope,  he 
pulled  it,  as  i'^  he  would  have  torn  it  down. 

Two  or  thi'ee  servants  answered  the  sununons. 

"  Ih'ing  watei',  salts,  harlshorn,  something,  anything, 
everything  !     Miss  Augusta  has  i'ainted  !'' 

They  tied  to  obey.  Restoratives  were  applied,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  'arge,  heavy  eyes  unclosed  and 
fell  on  her  father's  face. 

"  Ai'(!  you  bettei",  my  darling  C  he  said,  bending 
over  her. 

Jler  eyi^s  wandered  around  in  a  vague,  wild  way. 

"  ()  i)apa.  where  is  she  C 

'"  Who.  my  love  f ' 

".laccpietta  I     (.)  [)apa,  it  was  dreadful  !"" 

"  Jjcave  the  njom  !''  said  A[r.  De  Vere,  sternly,  to 
the  curious  seivants,  who  I'eluctantly  o!)eyed. 

"Papa,  v.'hat  have  you  done  to  her  I''  she  cried, 
starting  up. 


•*    (?'■*' 


i.| 


I 


V  ; 


V        '■ir 


I  J' 


lilt 


*     111  '  !■' 


288       "i/iE;     01  VET II    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP:' 

"  Slio  is  gone,  Aii<^u.stii  I  Sli(3  will  never  come  back 
more." 

"  Papa  ♦;' 

"  I  reiiiet  the  necessity  as  imicli  as  you  can  possibly 
do,  Auiijiista  ;  ])nt  instice  must  have  its  wr-v.  JSlie  has 
been  weiuhini'-  in  the  balance  nnd  found  wantinii;.''' 

"  And  you  have  tiii-ned  lier  out  of  doors  V 

lie  turned  crimson. 

"  1  could  no  h)ni!;er  keep  her  herewith  respect  to 
myself,  my  dani^diter  I"' 

"Poor  little  sistei' !"  said  Au<»;ustn,  bitterly,  "  this  is 
the  return  •  e  have  made  her  for  all  her  love  !  Poor 
little  «Iac(juetta  !'' 

"  She  was  ii^uiltx',  Auifnsta  !"  said  her  father,  sternly  ; 
"she  carried  a  fiilse  heart  under  that  fair  face.  Let  us 
speak  no  more  of  her.     Diimer  is  waitin<r." 

''Excuse  me,  i)a])a,  I  do  not  feel  well,  and  would 
rather  _tj;o  to  my  room.'' 

"  Whatever  you  wish,  my  dear,"  he  said,  cahnly. 
And  she  passed  from  tlie  I'oom  without  a  w<u"d. 

He  turned  to  Disbrowe,  l)ut  he  had  uever  moved. 
Orrie,  too,  lay  very  quiet,  wirh  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  her  head  on  his  breast. 

"  Alfi'cd,"  said  Ww  i)c  V'ere,  gently,  for  there  was 
something  chilling  in  this  shrinking  oif  of  ;ill. 

The  young  man  lifted  his  head  and  raised  his  eyes, 
and  his  uncle  started,  to  see  how  pale,  and  cold,  and 
stern  he  looked. 

''  J  am  sorry  if  this  un])leasaut  scene  has  pained  you, 
but  it  was  unavoidable.  Diimer  is  waiting — will  you 
come  down  {  Yuu  have  tasred  nothing  since  break- 
fast." 

Captain  Disbrowe  gently  placed  Orrie  on  the 
ground,  and  aro<e. 

''  Of  course  you  will  not  think  of  leaving  us  for  a 
few  days,  now.  It  will  be  so  louely  hero  that  wc  can 
ill  spare  you." 

'*  Thank  you!     I  believe  I  shall  carry  out  my  orig- 


US 

:as 

es, 
lid 

ik- 
;lie 
r  a 


l(r- 


''HE     OIVETH    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP. 


289 


inal  dcei^n,  and  leave  to-day,"  lie  said,  in  a  voice  of 
chill iiii^  coldnci^s. 

"  Leave  to-dav  !  My  dear  Alfred,  you  do  not  mean 
it!" 

He  l)0wed  plii;'htly. 

"  Will  you  have  tlio  goodness  to  deliver  my  luo^gage 
to  whoever  I  may  send  for  it,  to-morrow  I — and  make 
my  adieux  to  Miss  De  Vere  and  Frank  C 

"  Alfred ! — my  dear  boy  ! — what  do  you  mean  ?" 

lie  was  almost  pitiful  in  his  earnestness,  and  in  the 
gathering  sense  of  his  loneliness,  and  he  looked  ear- 
nestly, wistfnliy,  in  liis  ne^Jiew'sfaee.  But  that  jiroud, 
full,  handsome  face  was  as  cold  and  inllexihle,  now,  as 
his  own  had  been  a  few  short  moments  before,  when 
listening  to  another  pleader. 

"  I  am  going,  sir.  I  thank  you  for  all  yom*  kind- 
ness to  me  sinee  1  came,     (xood-bye." 

"Alfred,  yon  are  angry  !"" 

"Xo,  sir — not  that  1  am  aware  of." 

"You  are  more — you  are  grieved,  hurt,  and  deeply 
olfended." 

lie  only  made  a  uKjtion  with  his  hand,  and  turned 
to  leave  the  room. 

"Xo;  you  shall  not  go!"  said  his  uncle,  iirmly, 
"  until  you  tell  me  what  this  means.  Is  it  because  she, 
Ja— " 

"  Excuse  me,  sir  I — I  do  not  care  for  hearing  that 
name  again." 

"  Is  it  because  she  is  gone  ?" 

"  Isoi  because  she  is  gone,"  he  said  coldly,  "  but  be- 
cause of  the  way  she  went." 

" She  was  guilty!" 

"  She  may  be.  You  ought  to  know  best,  since  you 
have  known  her  longest." 

"She  has  deceived  me !" 

"Well;  soyoi;  told  herself." 

"And  slie  did  not  deny  it." 

"  Pardon  me — I  think  she  dUir 

"Well,  what  matter r'  said  his  uncle,  impatiently  ; 

13 


i.'i 


\  III 


ii> 


V   t 


111 


•  t 


\V 


t  r 


I* 


ft 


r. 


I 


^^t 


\        i 


'.*  '■ 


>       ■ 


290      ''HE    OIVETH    UTS    BELOVED    SLEEP.'' 


II 


"  she  was  guilty,  none  the  less.  So  I  could  not  act 
otlienviso  tliaii  1  have  cl.ne." 

"I  do  not  presume  to  criticise  your  conduct." 

"  Yet  you  are  angry.     Why  is  it  T' 

"  I  have  ijccn  deceived — that  is  all,"  said  Disbrowe, 
(juietly. 

"  Deceived  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  I" 

"How?" 

"The  person  I  was  led  to  believe  your  daughter, 
my  cousin,  and  a  3'ouiig  lady,  turns  out  to  be  a  wife,  a 
mother,  and  the  daughter  of  one  whom  she  herself 
justly  called  the  greatest  villain  unhung!" 

"Do  you  love  her  still ?" 

"  Excuse  me  answering  that  question,  and  allow  me 
to  bid  you,  once  inoi'e,  farewell." 

"  You  will  go  ?" 

A  bow  was  iiis  answer. 

"  1  have  acted  for  the  best,  and  yet  you  all  turn 
against  nic.  I  loved  her  myself ;  and  yet,  because  I 
obeyed  the  connnand  of  justice,  I  am  looked  upon  as  a 
monster." 

"  Charitv  is  as  great  a  virtue  as  justice." 

"  Good-bye,  Alfred." 

"  Farewell,  sir." 

They  shook  hands,  but  how  cold  and  quiet  one  hand 
was ! 

Disbrowe  turned  to  quit  the  room,  and  his  uncle 
sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  A 
child's  shrill  scream  echoed  through  the  house,  and  lit- 
tle Orrie  was  clinging  to  him,  wildly. 

"•  Oh,  don't  go  ! — stay  with  me  1" 

He  stooped  and  put  his  arm  around  her. 

"  You  must  bo  quiet,  Orrie,  and  let  me  go — I  can't 
stay." 

"  AVell,  take  me  with  you,  then  ?" 

"No,  I  cannot  do  that,  either.  You  must  stay  here. 
If  you  cry,  now,  I  shall  not  like  j^ou.  Will  you  bo 
qui  3t  ?" 


i  I 


lit- 


can't 


here. 
)U  bo 


''HE    OIVETU    Ills    BEL0VI:D    sleep:'      291 

"Yes,"  sobbed  Orrio. 

"  Tlien,  good-bye  !  Now  lot  me  c^o." 

lie  kissed  her,  tenderly.  '^  Fur  her  inotlier's  sake," 
*  he  said,  gently  ;  and  then  lie  let  her  go,  and  quitted  iho 
room. 

lie  ordered  his  horse,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  in 
the  saddle,  and  galloping  away,  as  if  the  arch-iiend  him- 
self was  after  him,  toward  the  Mermaid  Inn.  lie 
knew  he  would  hardly  reach  it  that  night ;  but  he  would 
almost  as  soon  have  passed  it  in  a  wolf's  den,  as  under 
the  roof  from  which  Jacquetta  luui  been  expelled. 

How  he  thought  and  thought,  as  he  rode  along, 
until  thought  became  agony,  and  he  dashed  over  the 
ground  like  one  mad  to  escai)c  from  himself,  lie  felt 
sure  thev  had  taken  her  to  the  lone  inn,  and  he  was  ji;Iad 
that  it  would  be  dark  long  before  he  reached  it,  so  he 
would  not  be  obliged  to  look  even  on  the  house  that 
held  her.  Not  for  worlds  would  he  have  hooked  on 
that  fair,  briujlit  face  ai^-ain — not  for  ten  thousand 
worlds  would  he  have  touched  that  small,  white  hand 
it  had  once  been  such  happiness  to  hold,  lie  tried  to 
shut  out  the  ''  haunting  shape,  the  image  gay,"  that 
flashed  before  him  in  all  its  beauty,  as  if  in  dei'iding 
mockery,  until  his  very  brain  reeled.  He  dashe<l  and 
plunged  furiously  along  through  the  deepening  night, 
almost  mad  with  impatience  to  reach  the  Mermaid. 
There  was  a  possibility  of  his  meeting  Ca})tain  Nick 
Tempest  there,  and  a  diabolical  determination  iilled  his 
lieart  that  one  or  the  other  should  leave  it  a  dead  man. 
The  S])anish  boy,  too — he  felt  as  if  it  would  be  a  di- 
rect mercy  from  Heaven  to  twist  his  neck  for  him  ; 
and,  in  his  present  savage  mood,  he  could  have  done  it 
without  remorse. 

The  daylight  faded,  and  faded,  behind  tiie  western 
liills,  and  tlie  holy  calm  of  a  soft  spring  night  settled 
over  moor,  and  forest,  and  tlowiiig  river.  Up  rose  the 
''young  May  moon,"  serene  and  silvci'v,  siiiiling  down 
like  an  auijel-face  on  the  younu'  vuV-  I'dashiii'j:  alon*^  the 
lonely  road  at  such  a  frenzied   \\v  e.     There  was  some- 


'^  lit' 


'V    ];. 


•■  i 


'      i 


202       "HE     GIVETJI    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP:' 


m  \ 


ilnwjr  of  lieavcn  in  tlie  lioly  hush  and  drow.'^y  calm  of 
tliat  I)ri_L^lit,  moonlit  nii^lit,  and  sonietlnng  of  its  jjcace 
stoic  into  tlio  passion-tossed  heart  of  tlicyounii;  English- 
man, lie  looked  np  at  the  f.ic.e  of  the  serene  sky,  wliore 
the  serene  moon  sailed,  and  reverenily  uncovered  his 
herul,  awed  hy  tlie  deep,  solemn  beauty  of  the  pale, 
l)ri;^ht  niii;ht.  The  eoul  breeze  lil'teil,  lii;-htly,  tho 
ciust-erinij^  locks  of  his  dark  hair,  and  calmed  the  fever- 
ish brow  beneath,  until  his  liii^h  heart  beatini^  subsided, 
and  he  rode  aloni^  in  a  subdued  and  decidedly  more 
Christian  mood. 

The  eastern  sky  was  ablaze  with  the  crimson  and 
gold  herahls  of  the  coinini^  morn,  when  the  tired  horso 
and  rider  halted  at  the  door  of  the  ]\Iermaid  Inn. 
Everything  was  profoundly  still,  the  shutters  closed 
and  the  door  barred,  and  its  master  far  in  the  land  of 
Jreams.  Hut  our  impatient  youn<»;  Eriton  cared  little 
^vhat  brilliant  visions  of  princely  custom  old  Eol)  llow- 
iie  was  induli^ing  in;  and,  with  the  butt  end  of  his 
horsewhip,  knocked  at  the  door  in  a  way  that  might 
liavc  awoke  the  dead. 

Ten  minutes  elapsed — durini^:  which  Disbrowe  kept 
'ip  a  steady  cannonade  at  the  door,  until  there  seemed 
jome  danirer  of  his  beatinij^  it  down  alto^i^ether :  and 
then  an  upj)cr  window  \vas  opened,  a  red  woolen  night- 
cap protruded,  and  a  startled  voice  demanded  who  was 
there. 

"  A  tired  traveler.  ILow  long  do  you  mean  to  keep 
me  waiting  here?  Come  down  and  open  the  door,  you 
old  villain  !" 

Thus  civilly  apostrophized  Mr.  Eowlie  drew  in  his 
head,  shullled  down  stairs,  and  blinking  very  much, 
held  the  door  open  for  his  early  customer  to  enter. 

"  Where  is  my  horse  to  go  i  See  that  he  is  attended 
to  directly  ;  and  let  me  have  a  bed  as  soon  as  possible. 
1  f(^el  completely  used  up." 

Old  ]>oI)  led  the  way  up-stairs  to  a  s!nall  hole  in  the 
wall  containing  a  b^d  and  a  chair,  and  informed  Dis- 
browe it  was  his  "  be.  '  bedroom." 


•as 


Ins 
Icli, 


hcd 

blc. 

Itlie 
►is- 


"iZ£;     GIVFAII    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEPS      393 

"  Oh,  it  will  do  well  cnoiii2;li,"  said  the  voiiiiix  iii;>n, 
castiiiii;  a  careless  i^lanoc  around.  '•  !See  that  my  liorso 
is  well  eared  for  and  carefully  rubbed  down." 

"  Yes,  ^ir,"  said  i\Ir.  liowlie. 

"  And  look  here,  my  irieud,  what  do  they  cill 
you  C  said  Uisbrowe,  divestin-jj  hinifcelf  ot"  his  coat  avid 
bouts. 

"  My  nauie's  Itowlie,  sir,"  said  the  host  of  the  1S\':y- 
maid,  in  his  slow  and  solemn  w;iy.  "  Mister — Koboi-t 
— Ed'ard — Rowlie,  jj^ineral  dealer  in  lickers  and  refres'n- 
mento  for  in;in  and  beasts." 

''  AVell,  Mr.  Jtowlie,  how  many  other  guests  have 
you  at  present  in  tlie  housed' 

Mr.  Ivowlie  looked  severely  at  the  bedpost  nearest 
him  a  moment,  in  deep  thought,  and  then  shook  his 
head. 

"  Wo  hain't  got  any  at  this  ]n'esent ;  no — not  any. 
It's  cpiiet  here — remarkably  so!" 

"  ^0  I  should  say.  IJut  there  was  one — Captain 
Tem];est — is  ho  not  here?" 

Mr.  Itowlie  looked  wirh  interesting  severity  at  the 
bedpost  again,  until  he  had  suliieiently  collected  his 
faculties  for  re[)ly. 

"  No,  sir ;  he  ain't  here — leastways,  just  at  present ; 
no — he  ain't. 

"Do  you  expect  him  soon  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Itowlic,  scratching  his  head,  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  his  night-cap,  ''  there  ain't  no 
saying  about  that.  lie  might,  and  then  again  he 
mightn't." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  ?"  said  Disbrowe,  testily. 
"  Do  you  think  he  will  come  to-day  ?" 

"  Well,  now,  I  really  couldn't  say,"  said  Mr.  Itowdie, 
with  a  look  of  helpless  distress.  ""  There  ain't  never 
no  })utting  any  dependence  onto  him.  lie  might,  and 
then  again — " 

"He mightn't,"  interrupted  Disbrowe.  "Perfectly 
satisfactory  !  There,  you  may  go  now,  my  intelligent 
friend  j  but,  should  he  come,  will  you  just  have  the 


^  mi 


i'f 


.*! 


294 


u 


UE    GIVETIl    IITS    BELOVED    SLEEP.'' 


I    y 


\    ' 


goodness  to  present  lii.n  Captain  Dis])ro\ve''s  compli- 
inonts,  and  let  liini  know  lie  li(i])es  to  have  tlie  ]ileasiire 
of  liorsew  liij>i)in_<i;  liini  within  an  incli  of  Ins  life  <l»o 
first  time  they  meet.     TJiere — \fO\  I'm  gdini;- to  sleep.'' 

To  have  seen  the  exj^ression  of  Mr.  Junviie's  ex- 
pressive eonnteiiance  on  hearini:;  this  saiii^uinary  iin- 
Tiouneement,  with  his  mouth  and  eyes  opened  to  their 
widest  extent ! 

A  faint  smile  broke  over  L^ishrowe's  face  as  he 
waved  liis  hand  forhimtof^o;  and  the  horrilied  host 
of  the  JMermaid  took  his  dei)ai'tnre  accord ini:;ly. 

Tired  and  worn  out  by  his  journey  and  the  miserable 
night  he  had  j)assed,  it  was  hin'h  noon  before  L)isl)rowo 
awoke.  There  was  no  such  thini;  as  a  l)ell  in  his  room  ; 
so,  hastily  drcssin«v  and  rnnnin_i»;  his  fingers  through  his 
hair,  he  glanced  in  a  facetious  little  looking-glass,  crack- 
ed across  the  middle,  which  ornamented  the  wall,  and, 
possessing  a  strong  natural  taste  for  the  ridiculous, 
rcUected  every  fixture  askew.  Having,  by  the  aid  of 
this  dissolute  mii'ror,  twisted  his  shirt-collar  hind  side 
before,  in  the  belief  that  he  was  thereby  putting  it  on 
straight,  he  descended  the  stairs  and  jiassed  into  the 
bar,  where  he  found  Mr.  Ivowlie  in  the  depths  of  a 
leathern  arm-chair,  solacing  himself  with  his  pipe  and 
a  mug  of  frothy  liome-brewed. 

"  Morning,  square !"  was  his  sententious  greeting, 
acompanied  by  a  [)atronizing  nod. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Ivowlie.  Have  you  seen  to 
my  horse  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rowlie,  meditatively — "  yes  ;  I 
have." 

*'  Well,  I  Avill  go  and  have  a  look  at  him  myself ; 
and,  meantime,  send  up  some  warm  water  to  my  room, 
and  let  me  have  breakfast." 

Mr.  Rowlie  having  promised  obedience,  Disbrowo 
sauntered  out  to  see  aft^'r  JSaladin ;  and  having  found 
that  amiable  (piadruped  pretty  comf(3rtable,  returned  to 
finish  his  toilet  and  take  his  breakfast;  for  beiuij 
"  crossed  in  love,"  as  the  housemaids  call  it,   seldom 


HE    GIVETU    niS    BELOVED    SLEEP. 


195 


to 

I 

If; 

i' 

id 
Ito 

,1" 


iiitcrferoa  with  a  niuirs  .ippctito.  Tlio  meal  bciiii^ 
Fcrved  in  the  kitclicii,  and  hcin^  waited  on  by  little 
Mrs.  Jiowlio,  wlioin  lie  I'cjund  to  ho  much  mon;  com- 
jnuiiicativo  and  intclHi.'-ent  than  li('rsi)<)ii>o,  hu  proceeded 
to  (Toss-examine  her  on  mattei's  and  thini^s- ii:;-lti!y 
eoiicludinir  he  stood  a  I'ctler  chance  ot*  obtaininu:  an 
answer  from  lier  than  her  solemn  sj)onse. 

'•And  po  CJai)tain  Temjicst  left  here  yesterday 
morning-,"  ho  was  saying.  "Did  he  tell  you  where  ho 
was  i:;oini>'  V 

'*  < )  Lor' !  no,  sir  ;  henever  tells  nobody  his  business, 
but  1  expect  it  was  something  or  other 'long  old  Cirizzlo 
llowlct.     They're^  as  thiciv  as  pickpocktits,  both  of  'em." 

''  Have  you  any  idea  when  he  will  return  V 

'•'  Well,  now,  1  couldn't  say  exactly,  but  it  ain't  im- 
possible he  might  come  to-day  or  to-morrow,  at  farthest. 
llis  men  is  waiting  for  him  out  there  in  Kowlie's  cove." 

'^  Where  is  that  f 

"Just  a  small  piece  below;  and  it's  always  been 
called  after  ijs." 

"Thej-e  was  a  boy  witli  liim — a  young  Spaniard. 
Do  you  know  anvthiiii;  of  him  ^" 

''Oh,  that  nncommon  handsome  little  furriner  1 
No ;  ho  hasn't  been  here  for  a  long  while  now.  I 
asked  old  Nick  once  where  he  was,  and  he  told  me  had 
gone  to  the — you  know  who;  but  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it.  lie  was  a  great  deal  too  gooddooking," 
said  Mrs.  Kowlie,  laughii'g. 

"  Do  you  know  if  there  is  any  chance  of  my  getting 
a  passa2;e  shortly  in  some  craft  going  from  here  direct 
to  New  York  r' 

"  Oh,  bless  you !  yes,  sir.  Day  after  to-morrow 
Jjill  ])riggs  comes  down  in  ids  wood-boat,  and  he  woiiid 
take  you.  You  wouldn't  mind  going  in  a  wood-boat — 
would  youT'  said  Mrs.  Ivowlie,  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  certainly  not.  It  does  not  matter.  "Well,  I 
suppose  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait,  h  there 
any  one  here  1  could  send  to  Foutelie  for  my  luggage?" 


s 


;  II 


I  4i 


^ . 


■  i 

I 

I 


^ 


*       I 


'    t 


'Hi 

m 


'■L 


«!' 


i'^    f 


v 

fe: 

V 

1 

1               1 

• 

i^       ■;  i 

1  ! 

,« ' 

»■ 

I    I 
i    i 


•  t 


296       "//^     OIVETU    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP.'' 

"^ly  iievvy  will  bo  here  in  tlic  course  of  tlie  day; 
lie  (*(»'.i!(]  ^'o." 

'■  Vovy  well ;  soiul  him  tlicn.  V>y  tli(!  way,"  lie  snid, 
carele^.-ly,  as  it'  the  tiioui^ht  had  r.tnick  him  Toi'  thelii'ist 
tiiiK',  "  (;an  you  tell  me  what  this  Captain  Tempest 
tra(.u'si  in  as  he  _i»;oes  eniising  around  the  world  C 

]\lis,  Uowlie  i^-ianced  fearrully  over  her  i-lioulder,  as 
thou:!;li  she  expeeted  to  see  the  hurly  foi'iii  of  ihe  cap- 
tain there  in  ])erson,  and  answen.'d  i-apldly: 

"I  don't  know,  Tin  sure;  1  haiiTt  the  least  idee — 
not  the  least.  He  never  l)rini2;s  nothini^  up  here — 
leastways,  nothing  I  ever  sec — so  i  railly  couldn't  say." 

"J)o  you  know  if  he  was  ever  married  i" 

"No,  sir.  Lor',  how  shouUl  li  It  ain't  more  than 
three  or  four  years  since  1  seen  liim  iir.-^t  altogether, 
and  he  had  no  wife  then  that  ever  1  heerd  on.  lie 
might  he  married  a  dozen  times,  though,  for  me." 

"How  came  lie  and  this  old  Grizzle  llowlct  to  bo 
80  intimate 'i" 

"Don't  know;  'ccpt  that  it  is  that  birds  of  a 
feather  Hock  together  everywhere." 

"And  this  child  who  lives  with  that  old  woman — 
little  Orrie — do  you  know  anytliing  of  her'i" 

"No,  sir — not  a  thing.  I've  liearn  she  was  the  old 
woman's  gran'-darter,  but  1  don't  believe  that,  some- 
how. J\Iy  'pinion  is,  that  that  fhcrc  old  Grizzle  ain't 
no  better  than  she  ought  to  be." 

"  You  might  swear  that  without  fear  of  perjury,  my 
worthy  hostess.  Have  you  anything  here  1  can  read  to 
kill  time  this  long  day  C 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  j\lrs.  Tlowlie,  departing  with  alac- 
rity ;  and  [)resently  reappearing,  with  the  wliolc  library 
of  the  Mermaid,  placed  it  on  the  table  beside  him. 

There  was  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Watts'  Jlymns, 
the  J\lelodies  of  -Mother  (roo>e,  and  liobinson  Cru- 
soe, with  the  beginning  and  iMid  torn  ctut.  Disbrowe 
smiled  slightly  at  the  attractive  catalogue;  and,  light- 
ing a  cigar,  leaned  back  and  tried  to  beguile  time  al- 
ternately reading  Watts'  Hymns  and  Mother  Goose. 


*' EE    GIVE  TIT    Ills    BELOVED    SLEEP. 


M 


297 


?> 


liny 
11  to 


lac- 
Lry 


ns, 
rii- 
we 


Iht- 


Tliat  long  day  seemed  endless  in  tlie  dull  Mermaid. 
No  one  came  the  live-long  day  except  the  "  nevvy  "  of 
Mrs.  liowlic,  who  was  immediately  ])aeked  oil  in  a 
horse  and  gig  to  Fontelle  for  the  young  soldier's  lug- 
gage. Half  a  dozen  times  Disbrowe  started  up  in 
desperation,  resolving  to  mount  Paladin  and  ride  to  the 
old  inn  and  sec  Jacquetta  once  more,  in  spite  of  them 
all.,  and  as  often  ho  checked  himself,  and  paced  up  and 
down  the  little  room  like  one  insane.  J^iglit  came, 
and  brought  with  it  a  calmer  mood  ;  but  it  was  a  night 
spent  in  feverish  dreams.  And  he  arose  next  day  more 
restless  and  misera!)lo  than  before. 

Toward  noon  this  feelintc  of  restlessness  ffrcw  in- 
supportable;  and,  unable  to  remam  inactive  longer,  he 
ordered  out  Saladin,  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  dashod 
olf  in  the  direction  where  his  heart  had  been  since  ho 
left  Fontelle.  In  less  than  half  an  hour,  the  old  inn 
came  in  *glit,  looming  up  dark,  and  dismal,  and  for- 
bidding in  the  solitary  waste.  JNo  one  was  in  sight, 
but  a  horsv.  .tood  at  the  door,  which  he  recognized  im- 
mediately as  the  one  he  had  often  seen  Frank  ride. 
Could  it  be  that  Fraiik  was  in  there  ?  As  he  started 
forward  to  see,  the  door  opened,  and  Frank  himself 
rushed  out,  like  one  crazed,  bareheaded  and  frantic, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  mounting  and  galloping  olf,  when 
Disbrowe's  voice  arrested  him  : 

"  Hallo,  Frank  I  Good  heavens  !  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

Ho  might  well  ask ;  for,  in  turning  round,  Frank 
disclosed  a  face  so  wild  and  haggard,  and  eyes  so  full 
of  ])assionate  grief,  that  it  sent  a  thrill  of  nameless  ter- 
ror to  his  heart. 

"  O  Frank  I  speak  and  tell  mo  what  has  happened  I 
Is  she  there  <!" 

"WhoT 

"  Jacquetta." 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank,  in  a  tone  of  passionate  bitter- 
ness ;  "she  is  there.     Will  you  come  in  and  see  her?" 

"  Yes ;  como  with  me." 

18* 


It) 


I*  m 


M 


h  I 

■■u 


p  r  : 


;^ii 


i ».? 


•I 


f> 


ili 


li    ' 


VI 


=«  ,i 


t- 


^    1 


■I 


208       "ifiE:    GIVETH    HIS    BELOVED    SLEEP.'' 

Both  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant,  and  Disbrowe 
was  wliitc  with  apprehension. 

"  Come,  tlien,"  said  Frank,  "  and  see  tlie  result  of 
their  woric.     You  may  all  he  proud  of  it  alike." 

"  Frank  !  F'rank  !     What  do  you  mean  ^" 

"  You  will  soon  see.     Come  !" 

He  led  the  way  into  the  lonp^,  high  kitchen,  and  a 
strani>;c,  nam-^less  horror  was  thrilling  through  the  heart 
of  iJisbrowe. 

Captain  Nick  Tempest  sat  gloomily  scowling  by 
himself,  and  neither  moved  nor  spoke  as  they  entered. 
Old  Grizzle  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  dark  and 
sinister  as  usual,  and  glanced  at  them  with  a  malignant 
smile  as  they  came  in,  but  did  not  speak.  The  door  of 
a  small  room  opening  oil'  the  kitclien  lay  ajar,  and  pass- 
uvr  into  this,  F'rank  made  a  siijjn  I'or  Disbrowe  to  fol- 
low.  There  was  a  bed  in  the  i-oom,  and  under  a  white 
sheet  was  the  dreary  outline;  of  something  that  made 
Disbrowe  reel  as  if  struck  a  blow. 

Without  a  work,  Frank  pulled  down  the  sheet,  and 
pointing  to  what  lay  stark  and  white  there,  said,  husk- 
ily:      ' 

"  Look !  there  is  Jacquetta !'' 

lie  looked.  The  small,  delicate  form  was  stiff  and 
rigid — the  bright,  sparkling  eyes  were  closed  in  their 
last  sleep — the  short,  ilashing  curls  lay  in  lifeless  clus- 
ters on  the  pillow.  The  sweet,  beautiful  face  would 
smile  on  him  no  more.    Jact[uetta  lay  there,  and  dead  1 


--*-#- 


I  * 


r\ 


THE    LONELY    GRAVE, 


209 


"  wA 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    LONELY    GRAVE. 

**  Thus  lived — tlius  died  she;  never  more  on  her 
Shall  sorrow  light,  or  shame." 

ES,  dead — stone-dead  !  beyond  their  power  at 
last.     ]Moi'e   beautiful   than   she  had   ever 
been  in  life,  she  lav  there  before  him:  her 
tameless  heart,  that  neither  wrong  nor  sor- 
row could  conquer,  quiet  enough  now ;  the 
little  restless  hands  folded  gently  over  the  marble  breast 
— so  strangely  calm,  so  fair  and  beautiful  in  her  dream- 
less sleep ! 

Moments  passed  while  they  stood  gazing  on  her, 
and  neither  spoke.  The  face  of  Disbrowc  worked  con- 
vulsively ;  and  at  last,  with  a  dreadful  Cry,  he  flung 
hhnself  on  his  knees  beside  her. 

"  O  Jacquetta !  J  acquetta !  Jacquetta !" 
"  Too  late !"  said  Frank,  bitterly.     "  The  world  was 
not  largo  enough  for  you  and  her.     It  is  better  as  it  is." 
There  was  no  response;  but  only  that  mighty  cry: 
"  O  Jacquetta  !  Jacquetta  !  Jacquetta !" 
It  M'as  the  cry  of  a  strong  heart  in  strong  agony — so 
full  of  such  quick,  living  anguish  and  remorse,  that  it 
went  to  the  heart  of  Frank.     lie  looked  down  in  the 
young   lace,  once   so   careless   and   gay,  but  so  full  of 
mortal  despair  now,  and  it  softened  him  [is  nothing  else 
could  have  done,     lie  laid    his  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
and  dropping  his  face  on  it,  burst  into  tears. 

"  They  broke  her  heart,"  he  Bobbcd.  "  She  could 
never  live  disgraced  !" 


IM 


^ 


tfi 


if 


800 


THE    LONELY    GRAVE, 


I  '! 


T  ' 

*  ■ 


Tliere  was  a  step  in  tlio  chamber ;  and  the  hand  of 
Grizzle  tonc'hcd  the  younij;  Jiian. 

"She  left  this  for  yon,"  8lie  said,  in  a  subdued  tone, 
as  if  slie,  too,  were  a  little  softened  by  the  sij^ht  of  his 
despair.     "  She  wrote  it  an  hour  before  she  died." 

She  handed  him  a  small  piece  of  paper,  on  which 
Bomething  was  feebly  scratched  with  a  pencil.  lie 
opened  it,  and  read  : 

"  For  all  I  liave  mafle  you  snlTer,  forgive  mc.  O  Alfred  !  I 
loved  you  witii  all  my  heart  and  soul,  and  this  is  my  atonement 
for  my  sin.  May  God  forgive  me!  for  I  could  not  help  it. 
When  Jacquetta  is  dead,  luul  you  hear  her  revihjd,  try  to  lliink 
tenderly  of  her  ;  for,  O  Alfred!  no  otic  in  this  world  will  ever 
love  you  again  as  you  have  been  loved  by  her." 

■     That  was  all.     He  dropped  his  head  with  a  _G:roan. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  seethe  the  kid  in  its  mother's 
milk,"  said  the  deep  voice  of  Grizzle  ;  "  yet  it  has 
been  done  now." 

"  O  ni}'  God  !  v.diat  have  I  said — what  have  I  done?" 
be  persistently  cried.  "  This — this  is  what  I  have  lost!" 

Captain  Tempest  had  entered  the  apartment,  and, 
hearing  that  sad  cr}^  came  over,  and,  with  a  sudden  re- 
vulsion of  feeling,  so  dilferent  from  that  of  a  moment 
before  that  it  was  almost  like  love,  laid  his  hand  kindly 
on  the  young  man's  shoulder : 

"  Lost  through  no  fault  of  yours,  Ca])tain  Disbrowe. 
I  am  her  father  ;  and  here,  beside  my  dead  child,  who 
loved  yon,  I  will  say  what  I  never  said  before  to  mor- 
tal mail,  tliat  I  am  sorry  for  what  I  have  done  to  you  !" 

He  held  out  his  hand  ^  but  Captain  Disbrowe  sternly 
motioned  him  back,  and  answered  : 

"  Were  you  ten  times  her  father,  it  would  make  no 
difference.  She  abhorred  you,  and  so  do  I !  Never  will 
my  hand  touch  that  of  her  murderer  !" 

"Hard  words,  young  man,"  said  Captain  Nick,  his 
bronzed  face  slightly  paling.  "Every  man  has  a  right 
to  his  own  ;  and  she  was  my  lawful  child." 

"  I  will  believe  that  when  we  can  gather  grapes  on 


mo 
rill 

liis 

;lit 

Ion 


TUE    LONELY    GRAVE. 


301 


thorns!  But,  as  I  said  boforc,  were  you  ten  times  her 
f;-thor,  I  would  not  caro;  for  here,  in  the  presence  of 
God  and  the  dead,  I  declare  you  to  be  as  much  her 
iriurderer  as  if  you  had  held  the  knife  to  her  throat ! 
Let  luu*  blood  cry  for  veuf^cancc  upon  you  till  the  day 
or  retribution  comes  !" 

"  Take  care  !"  said  Captain  Xick,  p^rowing  whiter 
still.  "  One  word  more,  and  wo  arc  deadly  foes  for 
life !" 

"  So  be  it.  Captain  Tempest,  you  are  a  coward  and 
a  liar !" 

"Now,  by  lieavens!"  furiously  began  the  captain  ; 
but  the  strong  hand  of  Grizzle  was  laid  on  his  shoulder, 
and  she  spoke  rapidly  and  imperiously  to  him  in 
Spanish. 

"  Respect  the  dead !"  said  Disbrowe,  pointing  to 
the  lifeless  form,  and  speaking  in  the  deep,  stern  tone 
he  had  used  throughout.  "1  quarrel  not  with  you 
here.  Fear  not  but  that  a  day  of  reckoning  will  como 
soon.     Leave  nie  now.     I  wish  to  be  alone." 

Even  had  he  not  been  under  the  inlluence  of  Griz- 
zle, there  was  something  in  the  eyes  and  voice  of  the 
young  man  that  would  have  commanded  his  obedience. 
Like  an  angry  lion  robbed  of  its  prey  he  turned,  with 
a  smothered  growl,  and,  a'jcompanied  by  Grizzle,  left 
the  room. 

There  was  a  long  pause  in  the  chamber  of  death. 
Like  a  tall,  dark  ghost,  Disbrowe  stood,  his  arms  folded 
across  his  chest,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  small,  fair  face  in 
its  calm  sleep,  his  own  face  like  marble.  What  seemed 
the  world,  his  coronet  and  prospective  bride,  in  that 
moment,  compared  with  what  he  had  lost !  Well  has 
it  been  said,  that  we  know  the  value  of  nothing  until 
we  forever  lose  it.  How  she  arose  before  him  in  all 
iicr  entrancing  beauty — bright,  radiant,  untanicd  as  ho 
'^  known  her  iirat — this  niatcliL 


a^ 


gn 


him  so  well !  He  recalled  her  in  all  her  wilful  moods; 
the  fairy  sprite  who  teased  and  tormented  him,  yet 
whose  bright  emilo  could  dispel  his  anger  as  a  ray  of 


'    ilt! 


^ 


V 


f, 


. 


n 


i- 


1 ' 

i 


303 


THE    LONELY     GRAVE. 


Biiiisliinc  dispels  gloom.  lie  thought  of  her  in  her 
heroic!  daring,  risking  her  own  life,  freely  and  fear- 
lessly, for  that  of  others — the  tameless  mountain  fairy 
transrorinod  to  the  ministering  household  angel,  hover- 
inji;  beside  the  sick  and  sulferini»-.  Ilow  tame  and  in- 
signilicant  all  other  women  appeared  beside  her — this 
high-soulcd  fay  of  the  moonlight !  This  was  the  girl 
who  had  loved  him  and  them  so  well ;  and,  in  return, 
they  liad  hurled  back  her  love  with  scorn,  and  cast  her 
oil  like  a  dog  from  their  gates.  And  now  she  lay  there 
before  him,  dead !  There  was  no  rej)roach  in  thoso 
closed  eyes — in  those  sweet,  beautiful  lips — on  that 
fair,  gentle;  face,  or  folded  hands.  She  had  forgiven 
them  all  for  the  great  wrong  they  had  done  her;  but, 
oh !  he  would  have  given  worlds  at  that  moment  for 
words  of  pardon  from  those  pale  lips — thoso  lips  that 
never  would  speak  more. 

Frank's  deep,  suppressed  sobs  alone  broke  the 
eilence  of  the  room.  Once  or  twice  ho  had  looked  up 
to  speak,  but  that  white,  stern  face  had  awed  him  into 
silence,  and  he  felt,  with  a  strange  thrill  of  terror  and 
pity,  that  it  was  })ossiblc  for  that  dark,  tearless  grief  to 
be  deeper  than  his  own. 

Disbrowe  himself  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence, 
and  his  voice  sounded  strangely  cold  and  calm  : 

"  Does  he  " — Air.  De  Vere  he  could  not  call  him 
well  then — "  know  of  this  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  with  a  sob.  "  I  was  just  going 
to  Fontelle  when  I  met  you  that  time,  and  turned 
back." 

"  How  did  you  know  this — this  had  happened  ?" 

"  I  didn't  know.  I  thought  it  most  likely  I  should 
find  her  here ;  and  before  daybreak  this  morning  I 
started  off,  and  I  found — 1  found  her — "  A  great  sob 
finished  the  sentence. 

"Dead!"  said  Disbrowe,  drawing  a  long,  hard 
breath.     "  When  did  she  die  V 

"  Last  night,"  said  Frank,  who  was  weeping  as  only 
•a  fresh-heai'ted  boy  can. 


\ 


ft 


THE    LONELY    GRAVE. 


303 


Je, 


ig 


rd 

to 


"  And  it  all  ends  here !''  said  Disbrowe,  looking 
Bteadily  at  the  death-cold  face.  "  Iler  short  and  sor- 
rowful story !  O  Jacquetta !  why  were  you  born  for 
such  a  fate  V 

Tlicre  was  an  unspeakable  depth  of  bitterness  and 
despair  in  his  tone.  Frank  checked  his  sobs,  and  looked 
at  him  fearfully. 

"  There  was  another — the  young  Spaniard — 'Where 
is  he?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  1   ,ven't  seen  him." 

"  Will  you  ask  ? — they  will  tell  you,"  he  said,  point- 
ing out. 

Frank  left  the  room,  and,  after  a  moment's  absence, 
re-appearcd. 

"  Grizzle  doesn't  know  either,  she  says.  He  did  rot 
come  with  them  after  leaving  Fontelle,  but  set  off 
toward  Green  Creek  by  himself.  Most  likely  he  is 
there." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Disbrowe,  "  then  he  is  gone  before  this. 
Well,  perhaps  it  is  better  so  ;  and,  after  all,  he  was  not 
60  much  to  blame,  perhaps — poor  boy!  Frank,  you 
ought  to  go  to  Fontelle  and  let  them  know." 

Frank  started  up. 

"  I  will  go  directly ;  but  you,  where  shall  I  find  you 
when  I  come  back  ?" 

"  Here,  if  I  may  stay.  Ask  the  old  woman  to  come 
here." 

Frank  left  the  room,  and  the  next  moment  Grizzle 
sauntered  in. 

"  Yoa  sent  for  me?"  she  asked,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"  Yes.  I  want  to  know  whether  you  have  any  ob- 
jection to  my  remaining  here,  while  she — she — "  He 
stopped  for  a  moment.     "  Until  she  is  buried." 

"JSfo,"  said  Grizzle,  indifferently,  "I  have  none. 
You  may  stay  if  you  like.     This  is  an  inn,  you  know." 

"I  understand — you  shall  be  paid.  lias  Frank 
gone  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  so.     I  saw  him  gallop  off." 


m 


\ 


> 


^    ,    .! 


.*f 


f   1- 


U\ 


'  ' 


•i  \ 


" 


'1  i 


i! 


if  «; 


m 

;,  ■     1 


\  i 


804 


THE    LONELY     GRAVE. 


"  Very  well.  AVill  you  IcaAe  mc  now  ?  I  wish  to 
be  iilone." 

In  the  same  indilTcrcnt  way  the  woman  walked  out, 
closiui^  the  cl<jor  alter  hei-,  and  Dishrowc  was  alone 
Vvith  the  dead!  Dead! — liow  strange  tliat  word 
sounded  in  conncetion  with  .laccjuetta  !  Jle  could  not 
realize  that  she  was  dead.  So  ealiii,  and  placid,  and 
Bereiie,  was  her  look,  that  he  almost  expected  to  see  her 
start  up,  as  if  from  shimber,  to  incjuire  what  he  did 
there. 

Captain  Nick  had  resumed  his  former  seat,  and  sat 
moodily  scowlinijj  in  tiie  lire.  As  Grizzle  reappeared, 
he  looked  up  and  asked  surlily: 

''  Well;  what  did  he  want  f 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  wanted?"  replied  Griz- 
zle, in  a  tone  quite  as  amiable  as  his  own. 

Captain  iSick  growled  out  a  lierce  oath  between  liis 
teeth. 

'"  T(^ll  me,  you  old  beldame  !  None  of  your  cursed 
mysteries  with  mc  !  What  did  he  want  V' 

''  llealiy,  Caj)tain  Tempest,"  said  Grizzle,  in  a  tone 
of  provoking  coolness,  as  she  dropi)ed  on  a  stool  before 
the  lire,  and  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her 
chin  between  her  hands,  looked  quietly  in  the  blaze, 
"grief  must  have  turned  your  brain  a  little  when  you 
atteni])t  to  bully  me.  However,  alkwance  must  be 
made  for  a  father's  grief  for  the  loss  of  an  only  child, 
and  all  that  sort  of  tiling,  so  1  am  ha}»py  to  tell  you  he 
wautetl  nothing  very  sinister:  but,  considering  \vhat  he 
knows,  something  pretty  rash — in  a  woj'd,  to  stay  here 
all  night." 

"Ijumph!     Alone?" 

"  Certainly  !  Frank  has  goi\<^  to  Fontelle,  I  expect, 
and  will  not  be  back  to-night ;  and  who  else  is  there  to 
share  his  watch,  unless  our  young  Spanish  friend  comes 
—eh,  Nick?" 

"  And  that's  not  very  likely.  My  private  im- 
pression is,  that  there  is  no  particular  love  between 
I)on  Jacinto  and  the  young  and  handsome  guardsman.'* 


THE    LOXIJLY     GRAVE. 


305 


•no 

ore 

ler 

.ze, 

rou 

be 

id, 

he 

he 

jre 


[ct, 

to 

lies 

mi- 
len 


"  Do  yon  really  think  so  ?"  And,  as  if  struck  by 
some  ludicrons  idea,  Crri:^zlc  laiiiflicd  outriLrht. 

"  What  are  you  i^rinninp;  at  now,  you  old  baboon  T' 
demanded  the  captain,  anujrily. 

'•  iS'othinj^,"  said  (jrizzle,  smiling  grimly  at  the  lire. 
"  Oh,  notliing!" 

"  Then  1  -wouldn't  advice  3'ou  to  do  it,"  said  her 
gallant  coinnanion.  "  You  are  none  too  pretty  the  best 
of  times,  but  you  look  like  an  old  dcath'sdiead-and-cross- 
bones  when  you  laugh.  And  so  he  is  going  to  stay 
here  alone  all  night  with  you  and  1,  Grizzled  13e 
hanged  if  he's  not  a  brave  fellow  !" 

"  1  fancy  he  would  risk  more  than  that  for  Captain 
Nick  Tempest's  daughter." 

"  I  tell  you  Vvdiat,  Grizzle,  he's  a  line  young  fellow, 
and  would  make  a  splendid  high-sea  rover — he  would, 
by  the  powers!"  exclaimed  the  capt'dn,  enthusiastically. 

'•Uah!  you  forget  the  way  he  treated  you  awhile 
ago !"  said  Grizzle,  contemptuonsly. 

"I  don't  care  for  that;  there's  a  strong  spice  of 
the  devil  in  him  ;  and  I'd  irive  a  hwj:  of  ducats  for  a 
dozen  such  hearts  of  oak  among  my  crew." 

"  iteally,  now,"  said  Grizzle,  with  a  sneer,  "  what  a 
pity  so  nuich  valuable  love  should  be  lost!  Perhaps  you 
had  better  ask  him  to  take  a  cruise  in  the  Fly-by-lN'ight 
to  the  coast  of  Africa.  It  would  be  a  change  for  the 
future  Earl  of  Earneclilfe  and  JJaron  of  Guilford — eh, 
my  bold  buccaneer  i" 

"Tush!  speak  lower — confound  you!  Upon  my 
word,  Grizzle,  1  did  not  think  he  would  venture  to  stay 
here  alone  to-night  with  you  and  I — I  really  didn't." 

"Pooh!  he  knows  there  is  no  danirer — that  it 
would  be  as  much  as  our  lives  are  worth  to  touch  him ; 
and,  besides,  he  is  armed.  Or,  what  is  more  1  lively 
stiil,  henever  thought  atiything  about  it  at  all.  Lovers, 
you  know,  generally  get  into  a  state  of  mind  when  they 
lose  their  lady-love,  and  forget  everything  else." 

"  Do  they  i  You  ought  to  know,  if  any  one  does 
—eh,   Grizzle?"   said   the   captain   with   a  grin.     "I 


i 


w. 


i   , 


I        I 


t  • 


300 


TII/'J     LONKLY     GRAVE. 


wonder  wlmt  his  ln\i,^li  and  iniL,ditincps  Duke  Dc  Yere 
will  say  wlicn  he  liiids  Jiis  quoudain  (laiii;liter  dead  and 
gone.     Du  yon  sn])j»ose  he  wili  take  on  V 

'•  He  will  fee!  it,  and  most  probably  will  suspect  we 
hel])e(l  her  oil." 

''  ^'ow,  by  Jove !  if  he  dares  to  breathe  such  an 
infernal  suspicion,  I  will  brain  him  where  he  stands!" 
exclaimed  the  captain,  fiercely. 

"  Yon  will  do  no  such  thini;,  my  l)oastin£^  friend. 
Will  it  not  be  a  very  natural  suspicion.  Captain  Nick? 
Neither  yon  nor  I,  you  know,  are  thought  t(jo  immacu- 
late to  be  guilty  of  that  or  any  other  crime." 

"  Does  he  suppose  I  would  slay  my  own  daugliter?" 

"Of  course  he  does — why  shonld  he  not^  What 
a  blessed  innocent  yon  are,  Nick!" 

"  You  might  do  such  a  devil's  deed,  yon  old  Mother 
Ilorrible !  but  1  would  not.  No ;  bad  as  Nick  Tempest 
is,  he  would  not  do  that." 

"  You  saintly  cherub !  Talk  of  Satan's  turning 
saint  after  this.  Are  von  not  afraid  of  making  your 
father  Satan  blush  for  his  renegade  child,  if  you  talk 
like  this?  They  ought  to  send  you  as  a  missionary  to 
the  Scalp-'em-and-eat-'em  Indians.  All  you  want  is  a 
bundle  of  tracts,  and  the  Indians  themselves  will  pro- 
vide you  with  a  costume,  which,  I  believe,  consists  in 
a  judicious  mixture  ol  red  and  yellow  paint,  some 
ornamental  tattooing,  and  a  bnnch  of  feathers." 

''  Don't  be  a  fool — will  you  ?"  said  the  captain,  with 
a  frown.  "Stop  yonr  nonsense,  and  talk  common 
sense.     AVhere  is  she  to  be  buried  ?" 

"  Mr.  De  Yere,  most  likely,  will  see  to  that." 

"lie'll  do  no  such  thing.     I'll  see  to  it  myself." 

"Pooh!  what  difference  does  it  make?  The  girl's 
dead,  and  what  odds  who  has  the  bother  and  expjense 
of  burying  her  ?  It's  his  duty  to  do  it,  too ;  for  he  had 
most  of  her  wliile  she  was  living." 

Captain  Nick  looked  at  her  in  mingled  anger  and 


disjrnst. 


a 


You   miserable  old  anatomy!   had  you  ever  a 


1  1 
i 


THE     LOyiJJ.y     ORAVE. 


307 


rl's 
inse 
iiud 

md 

a 


woman's  lieart?  1V(>;  T  toll  yon  J  sliall  Imry  licr — I 
rnypolt",  as  tlio  f^polH]ii!:-l)0(ik-  f^ays ;  and  ]\Ir.  liobcrt  De 
Vcre  may  niind  his  oud  aiTairs.  jlc  sliall  have  nothinui; 
jnoi'c  to  ?ay  to  my  ^i!;irl,  livino-  or  dead.  To-mornnv 
ijioi'nijii;'  J'll  he  oil"  to  (Irecii  Creok  lor  a  collin.  I 
enjipose  J  can  ^ot  nt)ne  nearer  tlian  (ireeii  Creek." 

"  JS'o;  nnless  yon  n)ako  it  3'ourseit"." 

"  J  l)ad  ratjicr  l)o  exensed.  J  coitld  make  a  lady's 
bonnet  a?  easily.  Poor  Jirtlo  tjn'nsj !  Tlie  other  day, 
slie  was  so  full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  now  we  are  talk- 
ing of  hnryin<;  her." 

Tl)ere  was  a  toneh  of  something:  like  melancholy  in 
the  captain's  tone,  that  showed  all  his  alTection  for  hia 
'vlittle  Jx'lia"  had  not  entirely  died  ont.  Grizzle 
looked  at  him  askance,  shru;T:^ed  her  shoulders,  and 
smiled  to  herself. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  captain  began,  in 
a  Bubdned  tone: 

"  Grizzle,  J  wonder  what  made  her  die?" 

"There's  a  sensible  question!  Jlowdo  yon  sup- 
pose J  know?  She  might  die  of  iifty  things — disease 
of  the  heart,  or  congestion  of  the  brain,  or  a  paralytic 
stroke,  or  a  want  of  breath,  or " 

"A  broken  heart !" 

Grizzle  lifted  her  head,  and  laughed  aloud. 

"  A  broken  heart !  Ye  saints  and  sinners!  Cap- 
tain Nick  Temjiest,  the  high-sea  rover,  talking  of 
})roken  hearts  !  Upon  my  word,  Nick,  you  arc  getting 
to  be  the  most  amusing  person  J  ever  knew — as  good 
as  a  country  justice  or  the  clown  of  a  circus.  A 
broken  heart !"     And  the  lady  laughed  again. 

The  gentleman's  answer  was  an  oatli — "  not  loud, 
but  deep;"  and  a  mysterious  hint  about  making  her 
laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of  her  mouth,  if  she  did  not 
mind.  And  then  the  amiable  ]iair  sulkily  relapsed  into 
silence,  and  remained  staring  in  the  tire,  without  a 
word,  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 

Night  fell.  Grizzle  ai'ose,  heaped  more  wood  on 
the  tire,  and  set   about  preparing  supper.     She  had 


1, 


if 


h    I 


■    I 

■ 

;      'I 


808 


THE    LONELY    GRAVE. 


r  •  *l ' 


1 ., 


1 1     m 


fallen  into  one  of  licr  sullen  moods;  and  to  tlie  (jnos- 
ticiis  her  companion  now  and  then  iipkcd  lier,  hIio 
cither  retni'ned  ehort  and  tniippish  answers,  or  did  not 
r("j>!y  :it  ;ilh  AVJien  .'•Jip])er  \va.s  ready,  Captain  iSick, 
without  waitinrr  to  he  invited — for  which  ho  prohahly 
miixht  Iiave  M'aited  Xowj.  enoufi'li  in  vain — laid  down  hi.s 
pipe,  drew  up  his  chaii*,  anci  fell  t(^  with  an  a])petlu? 
no  way  tliminishcd  hy  the  loss  of  his  daughter  and 
heiress.  {.iy'vayAq,  ■went  over,  and  without  ceremony 
opened  the  chand)er-(loor  where  lay  the  dead  girl, 
watched  l)y  her  living  lover. 

lie  was  sitting  nenr  the  head  of  the  bed,  his  arm 
resting  on  the  pillow,  his  forehead  dropped  upon  it, 
and  his  dark  hair  mingling  with  her  bright,  short  curls, 
as  still  and  motionless  as  the  corpse  itself.  The  sight 
might  have  touched  any  other  heart  ;  it  would  have 
the  ca])tain"s,  but  on  Grizzle  it  produced  no  effect. 
Ivlen  seldom  grow  so  utterly  depraved  and  lost  to  every 
good  feeling  as  a  hardened  and  reckless  woman  will, 
bhe  went  up  to  him,  and  touched  him  lightly  on  the 
shoulder. 

He  looked  up,  and  his  face  was  like  marble. 

"  Supper  is  ready,"  she  said.  "  Will  you  come 
out  ?" 

"  1^0  ;  I  do  not  want  any." 

"  I  will  bring  it  in,  if  you  like." 

"  No.     Leave  me." 

"  Shall  1  fetch  you  a  light  ?" 

"  i\V?,"  lie  said,  with  an  imperious  wave  of  his  hand. 
"Go!" 

IJis  tone  was  not  to  be  resisted.  She  left  the  room, 
and  the  lovers — the  dead  and  the  living  were  again 
aJone. 

After  supper,  Captain  Kick  threw  him-self  down 
before  the  lire,  saying: 

"  Have  break  last  ready  bright  and  early  to-morrow 
morning.  Grizzle;  you  know,  1  must  be  oil'  to  Green 
Creek  by  day-dawn." 

Grizzle  nodded  a  brief   assent,  and  in  five  minutes 


/V/'^'V-^ 


|igam 


own 

•row 
I'ecu 

jutes 


THE    LONELY    G  Li  AVE. 


809 


the  cnpfiiin  -was  sound  asleep.  Tlien,  liavin^  sccti  to 
the  iire  and  put  the  room  in  order,  slie  sought  licr  own 
room  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  guilty  until  jnoi-niiifj^, 
and  drenni  c>t'  the  lonely  watcher  in  the  room  of  deatji. 

Next  niorninf;',  before  the  lark  liad  l)ep:;un  to  chant 
his  matin  carol,  Ca])tain  Kick  was  in  the  saddle  in  a 
swift  canter  to  Green  Creek.  Grizzle,  curious  to  see  the 
eifects  of  his  night's  watching  on  J)is])i'owe,  Jiad  softly 
ojK'ned  the  door  once,  and  saw  him  in  precisely  the 
same  attitude  as  that  of  last  uight — as  tlioiigh  lie  had 
never  stirred  since. 

'"  I  knew  lie  would  feel  it,"  said  Grizzle  to  lierself ; 
"hut  hardly  as  much  as  this,  T  thought.  This  is 
revenge !  1  wonder  where  Master  Jacinto  is  by  this 
time  V 

The  clatter  of  liorses'  hoofs  at  this  moment  brougjit 
Iier  to  the  window,  and  she  saw  Mr.  Do  Vere,  Augusta, 
and  their  family  ])hysician  in  the  act  of  dismounting. 

"J  knew  it,"  she  said,  with  one  of  her  hai'd,  grim 
smiles.  "  They  sus])ect  foul  l^Iay,  and  have  bi'ought  the 
doctor  to  make  sure.  Well,  tiiey^j-e  wi-ong  for  once — 
that's  one  comfort!  (.)h,  you  had  better  beat  down  the 
door — hadn't  you  'i  One  would  think  you  were  master 
liere,  as  well  as  in  Fontelle  IJall." 

Thus  apostrophizing,  the  iady  leisurely  shullled  to 
the  door;  and,  opening  it,  saw  Mr.  JJe  Vere,  very  pale, 
and  dark,  and  stern,  standing  on  tlie  threshold.  The 
moment  Jiis  eye  fell  on  Grizzle,  he  gras))ed  her  liercely 
by  the  wrist,  and  said,  in  a  hoarse  whis])er: 

"  Woman — liend  !  have  you  miu'dered  her?" 

"  You  have  l)r(night  a  doctor — go  and  see  !"  said 
Grizzle,  with  a  sneer. 

"If  you  have,  by  all  the  hosts  of  Heaven,  you  and 
your  vindictive  companion  shall  hang  as  high  as  Hainan, 
in  spite  of  earth  and  all  it  contains!" 

"  Yow  threatened  befoi'e,  Mr.  l.)e  Vere,  aJid  your 
threats  endeil  in  smoke,  it'  you  remember." 

"  Yon  will  lind  to  your  cost,  they  will  not  this  time. 
Where  ia  Jaequctta  V 


\m 


(I  ^  il 


I 


m 


'!■  i 


( 


I 


810 


THE    LONELY    QliAVE. 


N  I 


"Not  far  distant.  All!  you  licre,  too,  Mi?8  Au- 
gusta'^ Your  iirst  visit,  if  I  ronicniber  right.  Ileally, 
my  poor  dwelling  is  honored  this  morning.*' 

"  Here,  get  along — get  along — get  along  !*'  inter- 
rupted the  d(yetor,  inii)atiently.  '"AV^e  have  no  time  to 
stand  fooling  here,  old  lady.  Lead  the  way — will  you  ? 
Take  my  arm.  Miss  Augusta." 

Augusta,  worn  to  a  shadow,  haggard  and  death-like, 
and  looking  more  like  a  galvanized  corpse  than  a  living 
being,  took  the  little  doctor's  jiroffered  arm,  and  fol- 
lowed her  father  and  Grizzle  into  thehouse.  They  en- 
tered the  cluuubei',  and  their  eyes  fell  on  the  bowed  and 
motionless  form  of  i)isI)ro\ve,  resting  beside  the  dead. 

"  Poor  boy  !"  said  Mr.  De  \^ere,  bitterly.  "  It  is  a 
sad  blow  for  him  I" 

"  O  Jaequetta  !  ()  my  sister!"  exclaimed  Augusta, 
with  a  great  cry,  as  she  sank  on  her  knees  beside  the 
bed.  "  Dead  !  dead  !  dead  !  alone  and  friendless — de- 
iserted  l)y  all !" 

Iler  cry  aroused  Disbrowe.  lie  looked  up  ;  and 
seeing  them,  arose. 

"  My  poor  boy !  my  dear  AUred  !"  exclaimed  his 
uncle,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  Look  at  her,  sir,"  said  Disbrowe,  sternly,  pointing 
to  the  lifeless  form.  ''Is  Justice  satislied  at  last! 
What  do  you  think  of  your  handiwork  f' 

"I  am  soiTy — 1  am  soi-ry.  O  Alfred,  the  heart 
knowetli  its  own  bittcM-ness.'' 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  sir.  fehe  knew  it,  too,  in  her 
dying  hour.     Who  is  to  answer  for  this  death  V 

"  God  forgive  me  if  I  have  wronged  her!  I  meant 
to  act  for  the  best.     Have  you  been  here  all  night  ?" 

"  Yes !"  he  said,  coldly  and  brielly. 

"Still  unforgiving,"  said  Mr.  Do  Yere,  turning 
sadly  ;iway  ;  "  and  I  thought  I  was  doing  right.  Poor 
child  !  how  serene  she  looks  !  A  dead  saint  might  look 
like  this !  Poor  little  Jaequetta !  Poor  little  Jae- 
quetta !"  ho  said,  putting  his  hand  before  his  eyes  to 
hide  tho  tears  that  fell  hot  and  fast. 


t   !i 


TEE    LONELY    GRAVE. 


311 


and 


leant 


mmg 

L\)or 

llook 

Jac- 

88  to 


Disbrowo  stood,  like  a  tall  dark  statue,  with  folded 
arms,  gazing  out  of  the  window.  Augusta  wept  con- 
vulsively, and  even  the  little  doctor's  eyjs  were  full  of 
tears. 

"  Poor  little  thing !  she  <'7f;t.'6^  look  like  a  dead  saint, 
and  she  deserves  to  go  to  Heaven,  if  ever  anybody  did  ; 
for  there  never  was  a  better  girl.  AIi !  she  has  the 
prayers  of  the  poor  and  the  w^eak,  anyway,  let  the  rich 
and  the  gre;at  turn  against  her  as  they  might.  1  don't 
think  there  has  been  any  foul  play  here.  She  has  died 
a  natural  death,  evidently;  of  a  broken  heart  most 
likely,  poor  child!  You  leave  the  room — will  you 'f 
said  the  little  doctor,  wiping  his  eyes,  and  blowing  his 
nose  furiously,  and  turning  ferociously  round  on 
Grizzle. 

That  lady  gave  him  a  glance  of  supreme  contempt, 
and  obeyed. 

For  nearly  two  hours  the  party  remained  shut  up  in 
the  room,  and  then  Mr.  De  Vere  came  out  and  ad- 
dressed Grizzle. 

"  AVliere  is  Captain  Tempest  ?"  he  coldly  asked. 

"  Gone  to  Green  Creek  for  a  cofhn." 

"  He  nuiy  spare  himself  the  trouble.  My  carriage 
will  be  here,  presently,  with  one.  I  intend  to  bury 
her  myself." 

"Just  as  you  like.     It  makes  no  difTerence  to  me." 

"You  can  tell  Captain  Tempest  that  she  shall  be 
buried  in  the  family  vault,  as  if  she  were  really  my 
daughter,  and  ir  will  prevent  the  talk  and  scandal  that 
must  necessarily  ensue  if  she.  were  taken  to  Green  Creek 
Cemetery.     It  is  a  better  arrangement  for  all  parlies." 

"  You  can  do  what  you  like  with  her.  A  dead  body 
is  of  no  great  importance  to  any  one." 

Mr.  De  Vere  turned  away  with  a  look  of  disgust ; 
but  he  pausetUiuddenly,  as  the  sound  of  carriage-wheela 
met  his  ear. 

The  next  moment,  the  boisterous  voice  of  Frank 
was  heard,  shouting  for  admittance  ;  and  he  and  Wil- 


,:'f 


U 


I 


ti 


«l 


\  .: 


i    : 


8ia 


THE    LONELY     GRAVE. 


I   .■ 


liani,  tlic  coacliinaii,  presently  appeared,  bearino;  oc- 
tween  them  that  most  dismal  of  all  objects — a  colKii. 

Disbrowe\s  marhleface  grewa  snadc  whiter  as  it  fell 
on  the  gha;-:tly  ohjeet.  The  lid  was  taken  oft,  and  the 
doctor  and  Mr.  J)(^  Vere  reverently  raised  the  slii^ht, 
p;irlish  form  and  ])iaeed  it  in  its  last  restinp^-place.  And 
then  all  i»;athered  I'^'onnd  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  fair 
face  they  were  never  to  see  afi:;ain.  IIow  sweet,  how 
placid  she  looked,  like  an  infant  aslceji,  with  her  little 
white  hands  serenely  folded  over  her  still  heart,  a  faint, 
half-smile  still  lingering  around  the  death-cold  lips  I 
The  loud  sobs  of  Frank  and  the  passionate  weepiTig  of 
Anjj-nsta  resounded  throui>'h  the  room.  Mr.  De  v  ere, 
too,  shaded  his  face  to  hide  his  fast-falling  tears  ;  and 
the  doctor  was  usin<i;  his  handkerchief  incessantly.  Dis- 
browe  alone  shed  no  tear,  heaved  no  sigh,  but  stood 
like  a  dark  ghost,  voiceless  and  tearless. 

And  now  they  were  bending  down  for  one  last 
kiss;  and  Disbrowe,  too,  stooped  and  touched  the  dead 
lips  he  never  had  touched  when  living.  And  then  the 
eoilin-lid  shut  out  the  sweet,  dead  face,  and  small  grace- 
ful form  ;  and  it  was  screwed  down  ;  and  the  screws 
seemed  driving  into  ^heir  own  hearts.  And  then  the 
sable  pall  was  thrown  over  it,  and  ^Ir.  l)e  V'ere  and  the 
doctor  raised  it  and  carried  it  out  to  the  carriage. 

They  all  followed.  Grizzle  stood  by  tijC  Mindow, 
watching  them  without  a  word.  Angus!  a  entered  lirst, 
then  jMr.  De  Yere  and  the  doctor,  while  Frank  and 
Disbrowe  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  behind. 

On  they  drove,  faster  than  ever  a  funeral  overwent 
before;  and  in  less  than  four  hours  the  stately  home  of 
the  De  Veres  was  in  siirht.  That  home  she  had  so  often 
gladdened  by  her  bright  presence  she  was  now  borne  to 
— dead.  The  vaults  were  entered  hy  the  north  wing — 
that  mysterious  iiorth  wini>:.  The  way  was  down  a 
long  llight  of  broad  stunc;  slaii's,  and  the  air  smelt  of 
death  and  tlu.'  grave,  damp  and  earthy. 

No  one  had  ever  rested  there  yet,  and  the  lonely 
coffin  stood  there  by  itself.     Tiie  doctor  read  the  burial 


TUB    LONELY    GRAVE. 


818 


eervice.  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  iiiito  dust  tliou  slialt  re- 
turn." What  a  cold  chill  the  inournful  words,  sublinio 
in  their  truth,  struck  to  every  heart  ! 

It  was  over  at  last,  and  they  all  turned  away.  As 
the  ^rcat  iron  key  turned  in  the  rusty  lock  of  the  door 
of  the  vault,  the  whole  dreadful  reality  broke  upon 
Disbrowe  for  the  lirst  time,  lie  had  been  like  one  in  a 
dream,  hitherto — he  could  not  realize  it ;  but  now  thoso 
cold  stone  walls,  that  massive  door,  was  between  them. 
lie  was  ii^oini^  out  into  the  i^reat  world  again,  and  Jac- 
quctta  lay  dead  and  buried  within. 

AVith  a  dreadful  i^roan  ho  leaned  a2;ainst  the  wall 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  AVhat  "svas  there 
lefi  for  him  in  the  world  worth  livin<2;  for  now '^ 

"My  dear  boy — my  dear  boy!*'  said  Mr.  Do  Vc/e, 


m  a  choking  voice. 


The  words  aroused  him,  and  he  remembered  he  was 
not  alone,     lie  started  up  to  go. 

"  O  Alfred  i  we  must  not  ])art  like  this.  Shall  we 
not  be  friends  before  you  go  i  1  am  an  old  man,  Alfred, 
and  I  love  you  for  my  dear  sister's  sake." 

It  was  a!i  apjjeal  there  was  no  resisting.  Disbrowe 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  caught  that  of  his  uncle 
in  a  friendly  clasp. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  uncle.  Let  the  presence  of 
the  dead  consecrate  our  new  friendship.  Augusta,  my 
cousin,  farewell.     Fraidc — doctor — good  bye." 

lie  waved  his  hand,  and  sprang  on  Saladin. 

"  Then  you  will  goi?  ()  Alfred,  if  you  would  but 
stay  with  us  a  few  days  longer." 

"  I  cannot.     Farewell." 

He  was  gone.  Down  the  nia])lc  avenue  lie  rode, 
and  disappeared  among  the  trees.  As  he  reached  the 
gate,  he  paused  to  look  back — his  last  look,  he  tlioughfc 
it.  llow  little  did  he  think  with  what  dill'erent  feel- 
ings he  would  gaze  on  it  in  days  to  come ! 

Who  can  tell  what  to-morrow  nuiy  l)ring  forth  ? 

lie  rode  on  ;  Fontelle  disa})peared,  was  left  far  be- 
hind, and  with  it  was  left  Jacquetta  in  her  lonely  grave. 

U 


■  4 

'J 
.ill 


r< 


4 


'ii 


8U 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. . 


OVER  THE  SEA. 

**  And  now  I'm  in  the  world  alone, 
Upon  tlie  wide,  wide  sea; 
And  why  should  I  for  others  groan 
When  none  will  sigh  tor  me  ?" 

— CuiLDE  Harold. 


i 


NE  week  later,  and  tlie  bark  "  Sea  Gull  "  left 
New  York  harbor,  bound  for  "  England's 
Isle."  The  passengers  stood  watching  the 
fast  receding  shores  of  ''  Uncle  Sam,"  and 
standing  oil"  among  them  was  the  tall,  gal- 
lant form  of  Captain  Alfred  Disbrowe,  gazing  thought- 
fully, sadly,  on  the  land  he  was  leaving. 

bown  the  river,  on  to  the  wide  ocean,  swept  the 
stately  ship,  and  slowly  and  gradually  the  shores  began 
to  recede. 

"Adieu  to  the  new  land,"  he  said,  waving  his  hand  ; 
"  farewell  to  bright  America." 

"  A  long  farewell,"  sighed  a  familiar  voice  behind 
him,  and  turning  suddenly  round,  ho  stood  face  to  face 
with  Jacinto. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Disbrowe's  eyes 
were  fixed  steadily  on  his  face.  The  boy's  dark  eyes 
fell,  and  the  blood  mounted  to  his  brow. 

"  You  here  V  said  Disbrowe,  slowly,  *'  this  is  a  most 
unexpected  pleasure." 

"  1  did  not  know  you  were  on  board,"  said  Jacinto, 
timidly.  "  I — I  thought  you  were  going  to  remain  in 
New  York." 


0, 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


815 


"  And  I  expected  you  would  luive  returned  with 
your  friend  Captain  Tempest,"  said  Di.sl)rowe,  coldly. 

"  lie  is  110  friend  of  mine,"  .said  the  boy,  quickly. 
"  1  never  knew  him  until  I  met  him  accidentally  in 
Liverpool,  and  tindin<i:  he  was  to  sail  the  next  day,  took 
passage  in  his  ship.     That  is  all." 

"  Have  you  not  seen  him  since  yoi;  left  Fontelle  ?" 
said  Disbrowe,  suspiciously. 

"^o,"  said  the  boy,  earnestly,  "not  once." 

"  You  have  heard  what  has  happened  since  V 

Jacinto  lifted  his  large,  black  eyes,  and  Disbrowe 
saw  they  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Yes,  and  indeed  I  was  very — very  sorry." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

His  tone  of  proud,  bitter  endurance  went  to  the 
heart  of  Jacinto,  and  the  tears  fell  fast  from  his  eyes. 

"  O  Captain  Disbrowe,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  In- 
deed— indeed  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"  Keep  your  pity,  my  young  friend,  until  I  ask  for 
it,"  said  Disbrowe,  with  a  look  half-disdainful,  halt'-cyni- 
eal,  "  and  dry  your  tears.    I  really  don't  require  them." 

"  O  Captain  Disbrowe,  what  have  1  done  to  you  ? 
I  never — never  meant  to  offend  you  ;  and  I  am  so  sorry 
if  I  have  done  so.  Oh  !  if  you  only  would  believe  me, 
and  not  treat  me  so  coldly,"  said  the  boy,  claaping  his 
hands  fervently. 

Disbrowe  glanced  at  him  slightly,  for  a  moment, 
and  then  looked  out  over  the  wide  sea. 

"  My  good  youth,  how  woul(J  you  have  me  treat 
you  ? — clasp  you  in  my  arms,  and  salute  you  on  both 
cheeks  a  la  Fvancaue  ?  Not  any,  thank  you !"  he  said, 
coolly. 

Ihe  boy  looked  down,  and  his  lips  quivered  slightly. 

"  1  never  meant  to  olfend  you — 1  never  did  !  You 
hate  me,  and  1 — 1  would  die  for  you  !" 

He  turned  to  go.  Disbrowe  thought  of  the  time  he 
had  saved  his  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own,  and  a  pang  of 
self-reproach  smote  his  heart.  He  started  up,  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder,  said,  kindly  ; 


\ 

!       I 

■  Ml 


'    1 


III 

0 


i' 


i'ti 


316 


OVER     rUE    SEA. 


■  I  ■ ; 


u 


"  For!>;lve  ino,  1  did  rioL  ineiiii  to  hurt  yonr  feelings; 
but  the  truth  is,  I  am  moody,  and  out  of  sort3,  and  just 
in  tho  liumor  to  quarrel  with  the  whole  world.  Come,  Ja- 
cinto, after  all  that  is  past  and  gone,  we  will  yet  be 
friends." 

lie  held  out  his  hand,  with  a  slight  smile.  The 
young  Spaniard  caught  it  in  both  his,  and  raised  it  to 
his  lips,  while  his  dark  cheeks  were  hot  and  crimson 
with  some  secret  feeling. 

"  And  so  you  really  like  mc,  my  dear  boy  ?"  said 
Disbrowe,  half-puzzled  and  half  touched,  and  thinking 
involuntarily  of  little  Orrie. 

"  Oh,  yes !"  exclaimed  the  boy,  lifting  his  spark- 
ling eyes  fervently  to  the  handsome  face  of  the  young 
Guardsman. 

"Yet,  I  do  not  know  why  you  should — I  have  never 
done  anything  as  I  am  aware  of  to  merit  any  affection 
from  you." 

"  That  would  be  loving  from  gratitude,  senor.  Do 
we  never  love  any  save  those  w  ho  have  done  something 
to  merit  that  love?" 

"  AVell,  I  don't  know — if  you  were  a  woman  I 
might  understand  it,  but  as  it  is — well,  never  mind,  I 
am  glad  you  do  like  me,  and  we  will  not  puzzle  our- 
eelves  trying  to  discover  the  reason.  '  Never  look  a 
gift-horse  in  the  mouth,'  you  know.  We  will  account 
for  it  on  the  principle  that  scapegraces,  and  those  who 
least  deserve  it,  are  always  best  beloved,  and  so  sic 
vitar 

"  Love  is  an  impulse,  and  despises  common  sense. 
The  young  god  is  always  painted  blind." 

"  AVliich  accounts  for  the  desperate  mistakes  he 
makes  sometimes.  Ihit,  my  lad,  there  is  a  subject  ])ain- 
ful  to  both  of  us,  but  on  which  1  nnist  speak,  now  or 
never!  I  mean  the  scene  1  saw  that  evening  going  to 
the  library.     You  know  to  what  I  allude  V 

His  face   flushed   slightly,    as    he   spoke,    and   a8 


Quickly  grew  pa 
"Yes,"  said 


lie  again 


.■ 


Jacinto,  looking  straight  before  him  ; 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


817 


"  and  T  have  often  and  often  since  wished  to  explain 
what  1  Baw  jou  misunderstood." 

"  Well,  speak  out  freely,  do  not  fear  that  I  will 
flinch  from  the  stroke." 

"  There  is  no  stroke  to  fall.  We  loved  each  other 
like  brother  and  sister — nothinji;  more." 

''  Xotliinu^  more  !  Are  you  sure  !"  said  Disbrowe, 
turnini>;,  and  lookini^;  searcliingly  in  his  face. 

"  No,  nothing  more,"  said  Jacinto,  lifting  his  dark, 
reproachful  eyes.  "  O  Ca])tain  Disbrowe,  how  could 
you  think  so  ^" 

"  Such  thin<xs  have  occurred  before." 

"  And  you  really  thought  for  a  moment  that  she 
could  love  a  boy  like  me,  in  the  way  you  mean  V^ 

''  I  thought  so  for  a  good  many  moments,  my  dear 
fellow.  I  wronged  her — I  wronged  yon  both  ;  and  I 
am  sorry  for  it  n<jw,  when  it  is  too  late," 

"  jSTot  too  late,  senor.  I  am  certain  she  hears  and 
forgives  you." 

"  And  you,  my  boy  ?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

"Thank  you;  was  she  angry  with  me  that  day 
when  I  left  V 

"  No,  only  grieved  and  hurt.  Yom*  words  went  to 
her  heart,  because — " 

"  Well  r 

"  Because  she  loved  you.  Captain  Disbrowe." 

Both  paused,  and  the  line  face  cf  Disbrowe  was 
dark  with  sorrow  and  remorse. 

"  And  I  never  knew  it  till  it  was  too  late  !  O  Ja- 
cinto, why  does  every  good  gift  come  too  late  in  this 
world  ?" 

There  was  a  dark,  passionate  dejection  in  his  tone 
that  startled  the  boy.  He  softly  laid  his  hand  on  that 
of  the  young  man,  as  if  to  recall  him  back  to  himself. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  had  never  set  foot  in  Amer- 
ica, Jacinto;  I  wish  I  had  been  dead  and  in  my  grave 
beiore  1  ever  thought  of  coming  here.  She  might  still 
be  alive,  and  I — " 


'  :  n 


.».*■■  I 


0 


* , 


813 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


l^ 


He  paused,  and  a  hot,  bright  tear  fell  on  his  liand. 
He  glanced  first  at  it,  and  tlien  at  the  boy,  with  a 
strange  look. 

"  What !  for  me  !  don't  shed  tears  for  me,  my  bov. 
I  am  not  worth  them,  and  never  will  bo,  now.  O  Ja- 
cinto !  the  world  is  as  empty  as  a  mit-shell." 

Again  that  sad,  reproachful  look  in  those  dark, 
raised  eyes. 

"  And  is  tliere  no  one  in  all  this  wide  world  who 
loyes  you  still.  O  Captain  Disbrowe  !  are  all  dead  with 
Jacquetta  ?" 

The  young  man  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Of  what  use  is  love,  when  we  cannot  love  in  re- 
turn ?  I  never  loved  but  her,  and  now  she  is  gone  for- 
ever! Sadly  true  are  the  words  of  theAViseMan,  'All 
is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit !'  You  are  not  ill — are 
you,  Jacinto?" 

"Oil,  no!" 

He  was  leaning  over  the  side,  his  dark  eyes  lixed  on 
the  far-olf  horizon  ;  and  something  had  went  out  of  his 
face  at  Disbrowe's  words,  like  a  light  from  a  vase. 

"Did  she  tell  you  she  loved  me,  Jacinto?"  he 
asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  Tliere  was  no  need — I  saw  it." 

"  It  was  more  than  I  ever  saw  then — blind  idiot 
that  I  was !" 

"  Lookers  on,  thej'-  say,  see  most  of  the  game.  And 
she  would  not  let  you  see  it,  because  she  was  high 
and  proud  ;  and  slie  knew  you — she  thought  you  were 
bound  to  another." 

"  Ah  !  and  tliat  was  the  reason,  that — 


\> 


*  Memory  of  iv  hidy 
In  a  laud  beyoud  the  sea.' 


And  because  I  was  bound  to  one.  Host  the  other!  As 
if  one  smile  from  Jacquetta  were  not  worth  a  thousand 
Normas." 

Ho  spoke  more  to  himself  than  to  his  companion  ; 


J 


OVEIi     THE    SEA. 


310 


and  he  did  not  observe  that  the  hand  that  lay  in  his 
had  grown  deadly  cold,  and  was  hastily  with- 
drawn. 

"  Did  she  ever  tell  you  she  was  married?"  he  asked, 
after  another  pause. 

"No." 

"  Did  she  ever  account  for  the  strange,  nightly 
music « ' 

"  No." 

"  And  you  never  asked  her  ?" 

"  No." 

Disbrowe  looked  at  him,  a  little  surprised  at  his 
laconic  answers. 

"You  are  ill,  my  boy  !  You  are  deadly  pale — sea- 
Bick,  perhaps?" 

A  faint  smile  at  the  unromantic  liint  broke  over 
the  boy's  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  as  quickly  died 
away. 

"  No ;  I  am  not  sea-sick — I  never  am — it  is  noth- 
ing.    Is  she — is  she — buried  ?" 

"  Yes !"  said  Disbrowe,  shading  his  face  for  an  in- 
stant, as  the  memory  of  that  lonely  grave  in  the  cold, 
dark  vault  rose  before  him. 

"  Poor  Jacquetta !"  said  the  boy,  softly,  his  eyes 
again  iilling  with  tears. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it  more,  Jacinto ;  it  is  like  vine- 
gar ui)on  nitre  to  me.  Now  for  yourself.  May  I  ask 
what  is  your  destination  ?" 

"I  am  going  direct  to  London." 

"  Ah  !  then  we  will  be  f(^l low-travelers — that  is  my 
destination,  too.     Have  you  friends  in  London  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  think  so." 

"  Your  birthplace  is  Seville,  I  think  I  heard  them 
Bay  ?" 

The  boy  bowed,  with  averted  face. 

"  You  nnist  be  my  guest  in  London,  my  dear  fellow. 
I  will  show  you  all  the  sights  worth  seeing,  from  the 
Tower  to  tlio  Thames.     Come,  what  do  you  say?" 

"  That  I  thank  you  very  much  ;  but  my  business  is 


^ 


( ■ 


*!! 


'  1  :  :'  ; 


MM 


M'. 


^ 


11   ^ 


830 


OVEIi     THE    SEA. 


' 


i, 


m 


i]' 


^ '  t'  i 


i:; 


i,<  ,1 


'■'I  '^• 


pressing.  I  can  only  remain  in  your  great  modem 
Babylon  two  or  three  clays ;  so,  you  see,  much  as  I 
should  like  to  accept  your  kind  offer,  I  must  yet  de- 
cline." 

"Well,  I  am  sorry;  hut  as  it  cannot  he  helped,  I 
suppose  we  must  he  rcsii^ned.  Two  or  three  days  is 
but  a  short  time  to  see  the  wonders  of  London.  I 
should  like  to  have  taken  you  to  old  Fontelle  and  Dis- 
browe  I*ark — two  country-scats  of  ours — and  shown 
you  what  the  '  homes  of  Merric  England  '  are  like. 
Lord  EarneclifTe  would  have  liked  you  immensely,  and 
BO  would  her  ladyshij).'' 

"  You  are  too  kind.  Indeed,  I  wish  I  could  accept 
your  invitation  ;  but  at  present  it  is  (piite  impossible. 
Some  day  I  hope  to  be  more  fortunate." 

"  You.  will  always  be  welcome,  my  Ijoj' — don't  for- 
get that.  And  I  will  not  forget  that  you  once  slaved 
my  life  at  the  risk  of  your  own.  If  I  seemed  to  do  so 
for  a  time,  it  was  when  I  unjustly  accused  you  ;  and  I 
believe  grief,  and  anger,  and  jealousy,  made  me  half  a 
maniac.  All  that  is  past  now,  and  we  will  let  '  bygones 
be  bygones.'       Shall  we  not,  Jacinto  ^" 

"  With  all  my  heart ;  you  make  me  very  happy  by 
Baying  so." 

"  Then  that  is  settled.     And   there  goes  the   last 
glimpse  of  the  bright  land  we  are  leaving.    I  wonder  if 
we  will  ever  see  it  again,  Jacinto  !" 
!       "  Heaven  knows !  1  hope  to  do  so." 

"  I  hardly  think  I  ever  will ;  and  yet  I  like  America, 
and  those  American  people.  But  sunny  Spain  and 
Merrie  England  are  dearer  still ;  and  so  we  can  heave  a 
sigh  for  the  land  of  Columbus,  and  in  the  same  breath 
chant  the  old  prayer :  '  God  bless  our  own  land,  that 
lies  beyond  the  sea,  for  it  is  like  no  other.'  Say  amen 
to  that,  Jacinto." 

"Amen  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  It  is  home, 
and  doubly  dear  after  the  land  of  the  stranger." 

"  Yes  ;  see  the  shores  fade   away  in   the   horizon  ; 


^ 


) 


OVEIi     THE    SEA. 


891 


I 


and  now  we  arc  on  the  '  wide,  wide  sea.'     Once  more  a 
long,  last  foiewell  to  America." 

And  with  a  smile  he  turned  away,  and  descended  to 
the  cabin. 


One  dark,  unpleasant  evening,  two  months  later, 
just  as  night  was  falling  over  London,  a  hackney  car- 
riage drew  up  before  a  large  hotel,  and  two  travelers 
sprang  from  it.  Loth  were  Mrnppcd  in  cloaks  ;  for 
though  the  month  was  August,  the  evening  was  raw 
and  chilly,  and  they  wore  their  hats  ])ulled  down  over 
their  brows.  One  was  slight  and  boyish,  the  other  tall 
and  dashing,  with  a  certain  soldier-like  air  and  bearing, 

"  And  so  we  part  here,  Jacin'o  '^"  said  the  elder  of 
the  two. 

"  Yes,  Captain  Disbrowe  ;  to  r  leet  again  some  day, 
I  hope." 

''I  hope  so.  Don't  forget  you  are  to  come  to  see 
me  if  ever  you  return  to  EnglaJid." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  not  forget.  Good-bye,  Captain 
Disbrowe." 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  boy  ;  and  as  the  Scotch  say, 
*  God  be  wi'  ye.' '' 

They  sliook  hands  cordially,  and  then  the  younger 
turned  into  the  hotel,  and  Cajitain  Disbrov/e,  wrapping 
his  cloak  close  around  him,  hurried  rapidly  down  the 
street.  Two  "guardians  of  the  night"  were  leaning 
against  a  lamp-post,  talking,  and  the  young  man  struck 
violently  against  one  of  them  in  his  haste. 

"  Beg  pardon,"  he  said,  turning  round  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  the  next  he  was  gone. 

The  watchman  rubbed  his  shoulder,  and  looked 
after  him  with  a  smothered  growl. 

"  A  lord,  that,"  said  his  companion,  looking  after 
him  also.     "  I  know  him  like  a  book." 

"  Well,  if  he  is  a  lord,  that  is  no  reason  why  ho 
should  bring  up  against  a  fellow  as  if  he  was  made  of 
cast-iron.  Blessed  if  I  ain't  a  good  mind  to  giv^e  him 
in  charge  for  'sault  and  battery.     What's  his  name  V 

14* 


V,i. 


ii^ 


:'!i1 


822 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


I' ! 


Vt    r 


:n 


!k-: 


i\\ 


^^'  . 


••  Lord  Eai'ixecliife.  as  used  to  be  Captain  Disbrowe 
of  tlie  Guards.  An  uncommon  wild  cove  he  was — 
used  to  get  into  no  end  of  scrapes  with  the  rest  of  the 
young  l)loods,  ami  was  known  to  the  pcrlice  JiUe  a  b;id 
penny,  lie's  been  abroad  in  furrin'  parts,  somewhere  ; 
and  lie's  Lord  Earneclille  now,  since  his  brother 
died." 

"  What's  that  you  say  f  said  a  fashionable-looking 
young  man  who  was  passing,  as  he  stopped  suddenly. 
''  What's  that  about  Lord  Earnecliife?  Ilave  you  seen 
him  r 

Tiie  iDolicenian  started  up  and  touched  liis  hat. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  just  gone   past— the  new  earl,  I 


mean 


55 


ghost  ? 


"  Yes,  1  kn(AV ;  thank  you,"  said  the  gentleman  as 
he  walked  rao-'dly  away. 

"  Another  of  'em,"  said  the  watchman,  leaning 
back.  ''  That's  Lord  Austrey  ;  he  and  the  other  were 
always  very  thiiik." 

Tiie  geiitleman  called  Lord  Austrey  hurried  rapidly 
along,  and  camo  u])  with  Disbrowe  near  the  end  of  the 
street.     Laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  he  exclaimed  : 

"Alfred,  my  boy !  is  this  really  yourself  or  your 
Tarn  round  until  I  see!  No;  it  is  you  in 
'propria i^ersona.     Welcome  back  to  England!" 

"  Austrey,  my  dear  old  fellow !''  exclaimed  Dis- 
browe, delightedly,  "  who  in  the  world  would  ever  ex- 
pect to  see  you  here  V 

"  When  did  you  arrive  V 

"I  reached  London  an  hour  ago  only.  How  came 
you  to  know  me  'C 

"  I  heard  a  couple  of  Chailles,  up  there,  saying  that 
Lord  Earnecliife  had  gone  past,  and  so  I  hurried  after." 

"  My  brother  here !     Where  is  lie'i" 

"Your  brother'^  My  dear  fellow!  is  it  possible 
you  don't  know^ 

"  Know  what  '\     I  don't  understand." 

"  My  dear  Alfred,  your  brother  is  dead  !" 


it 

1" 


OVEIi     THE    SEA. 


828 


"Dead  !  good  heavens !" 


"  Yes — he  died  three  weeks  ago  at  Disbrovve  Park, 
of  disease  of  the  heart.  I  wonder  you  did  not  see  it  in 
the  papers." 

**  I  have  not  looked  at  a  ])apcr  for  the  hist  two 
months.     Dead !     Oh,  Earnechlfe !  and  I  not  there !" 

lie  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands,  half-stunned 
by  the  suddenness  of  the  shock.  Lord  Anstrey  liailed 
a  carriage  and  drew  him  into  it,  gave  the  driver  some 
directions,  and  they  clattered  rapidly  away  over  the 
stony  street. 

Disbrowe's  brain  was  in  a  whirl ;  and  so  completely 
overcome  was  he  by  the  news,  that  he  could  not  ask  a 
single  question.  Tlie  cab  stopped  ;  they  got  out ;  and 
it  was  not  until  he  found  himself  in  his  friend's  room 
that  he  could  speak. 

"  And  Lady  Margaret — where  is  she  ?" 

"At  Disbrowe  Park  still — waiting  for  you,  I  be- 
lieve.    It  is  most  astonishing  you  have  not  heard  of  it." 

"  I  never  heard  a  word  of  it.  Have  you  seen  Lady 
Margaret  since':!" 

"  Yes  ;  she  sent  to  know  if  I  had  heard  from  you. 
She  is  extremely  anxious  for  your  return." 

*'  How  does  she  bear  iff 

"  Well,  calmly  enough.  You  know,  it  was  to  be 
expected,  my  dear  fellow.  He  was  liable  to  die  at  any 
moment,  these  many  years.  He  had  just  heen  taking 
a  short  walk,  and  sat  down  on  a  seat  to  rest,  and — never 
rose." 

"*My  poor  brother?  O  Austrey !  he  was  such  a 
kind  brother  to  me — so  indulgent  to  all  my  faults,  and 
their  name  was  legion.     Who  is  with  Lady  ]\[argaret  ^" 

"No  one,  I  believe,  except  Mr.  Macdonald.  IJe 
happened  to  be  «t  the  Hall  at  the  time,  and  told  me  lie 
intended  remaining  until  your  return.  It  would  not  do 
to  leave  Lady  Earneclilfe  cpiite  alone,  you  know." 

A  slight  red  came  into  Disbrowe's  pale  cheek. 

"  And  his  daughtei' — is  she  there,  too  V^ 


It: 

m 


111- 


i  •<« 


824 


OVER     THE    SEA. 


J 


"  No ;  Miss  Macdonald  is  abroad — has  been  for  some 
time — but  is  expected  to  return,  shortly." 

"Indeed!     Where  is  she  r' 

"  Can't  say,  positively.  Somewhere  among  tho 
wilds  of  Scotland,  I  think.  Of  course,  your  marriage 
must  be  postponed,  now  !" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Disljrowe,  with  a  promptitude 
that  rather  surprised  his  friend.  "  There  can  be  no  two 
ways  about  that.  To-morrow  morning  I  will  start  for 
Disbrowe  Park." 

"  Do  so,  l)y  all  means.  Lady  Margaret  intends 
spending  the  winter  in  Italy,  I  believe,  and  cannot 
leave  home  until  she  sees  you.  I  will  go  down  with 
you,  if  you  choose." 

"My  dear  George!  the  very  thing.  I  would  have 
asked  you  to  do  so,  only  I  feared  it  would  Ije  too  much, 
even  for  your  good-nature,  to  hury  yourself  alive  at 
Disbrowe  Park.     How  are  all  my  friends  in  London  V^ 

"  All  quite  well,  I  think — some  have  gone  abroad, 
and  some  got  married.  A  jjrojjos  of  uothiug — how  Jid 
you  like  your  visit  to  America  ^" 

"  Well  enough." 

"  What  is  the  place  like  ?" 

"  A  line  country — you  should  see  it." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  care  for  wandering  beyond 
the  precincts  of  the  Serpentine;  the  world  beyond  that 
is  only  half-civilized.     Do  you  like  the  Yankees  ?" 

"  Very  nmch — never  saw  people  I  liked  better." 

"  Particularly  clever  and  wide-awake,  I  have  heard 
— tl  e  men  all  smart,  and  the  women  all  handsome. 
Weil,  I  don't  know  but  I  shall  take  a  trip  over  there, 
some  day,  just  to  see  for  myself.  It's  such  an  old  story 
doing  the  Grand  Tour,  as  they  call  it — like  the  journey 
nurses   give  children   to    IJanbury   Cross,  it's  slightly 


monotonous 
fellow  ;  had 


iiut  you  look  terriuly  used-up,  my  dear 

you  not  Ijotter  retire  f 

Disbrowe,  or,  more  properly,  liOrd  EarneclilTe — but 

the  former  name  is  too  familiar  for  you  and  I  to  give 

up,  dearest  reader — arose,  and  Lord  Austrey  rang  the 


1 ,11    I " 


OV£Ji     THE    SEA. 


S25 


1  A  servant  appeared,  and  showed  him  into  an 
elep:antly-furn]shed  apartment,  wliere  the  m-eater  part 
of  tiie  nigJit  was  spent,  not  in  sleepin-,  but  in  pacing 
up  and  down  his  room,  Jost  in  his  own  thoun-hts 

Alter  an  early  breakfast,  next  morninS,  tlie  two 
jonng  peers  were  in  their  saddles  and  ready  for  their 
journey.  *^ 

"And  now  for  Disbrowe  Park!"  exclaimed  Lord 
Austrey,  as  they  dashed  off  together  at  a  rapid  pace. 


;;  I  !  '■ 


I 


i'  IS 

I 

m 


!  '] 


"i, 


1, 


til 


^*  1 


'1     s 


K 


■i'fj 

Iji 

1 

11 

,  fc 

fiH'  1 

« 

ft 

■  ; 

1 

11 

U  ii 


I  I' 


B26 


NORMA. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


NOKMA. 

"It  was  not  thus  in  otiier  days  wc  met;  » 

Hath  time  and  absence  taught  thee  to  forget  ?" 

r*iEVER  fell  tlie  simliglit  on  a  fairer  Englidli 
jiomesteud  than  the  one  on  which  streamed 
the  warm,  golden  sunshine  on  the  bright 
September  morning  of  which  I  write.  A 
large,  irregular  cM  building,  not  unlike  a 
niodcruized  castle,  or  a  French  chateau  that  had  taken 
a  serious  turn,  peeped  through  the  clum])s  of  trees,  and 
thick,  clustering,  dark-green  ivy.  There  were  great 
windows  of  stained  glass,  and  projecting  gables,  and  odd 
rookeries,  and  aii  old  Gothic  chapel  at  one  end — very 
pretty  and  romantic-looking  indeed.  There  were  broad 
sunny  glades,  with  deer  frisking  about,  aud  long  laurel 
walks,  and  shady  avenues;  even  the  trees  met,  and  in- 
tertwined their  long,  green  arms  overhead — delightful 
walks  and  mighty  suggestive  for  lovers.  Tl'.ere  were  a 
couple  of  fountains,  too — three  twisted  serpents  on  oie 
side,  spouting  forth  tall  jets  of  water,  and  bronze  lions 
on  the  other,  with  gold  and  silver  lish  s])()rting  in  the 
glittering  waters.  There  were  the  sunniest  of  smooth 
meadows,  the  most  velvety  of  lawns,  the  briglitest  of 
terraces,  overrun  with  ivy,  roses,  jasmine,  and  honc^v- 
sucklcs.  There  was  the  most  fragrant  and  brilliant  of 
pastures,  bright  with  liowersof  every  hue  and  size,  from 
the  wee,  modest,  English  violet,  to  the  gaudy,  flaunting 
tulip,  passion  flowers,  and  tall,  creamy  magnolias. 
There  wjis  a  mimic  lake,  lying  like  a  great  white  pearl 
in  a  setting  of  emeralds,  where  snowy  water-lilies  float- 


i 


■^ 


r  I 


yOILUA. 


327 


ed,  and  on  whose  silvery  bosom  nuijestic  swans,  of 
dazzlinij;  whiteness,  serenely  swam.  Altogether,  it  was 
like  a  little  glimpse  of  fairy-land,  a  peep  into  xlreadia; 
yet,  had  you  allied  the  gate-keeper,  in  his  pretty  little 
lodge  beside  the  great  gate,  he  would  liayc  told  you  it 
was  only  Disbrowe  Park. 

It  was  a  warm,  sunshiny,  golden  September  morn- 
ing. There  was  a  drowsy  hum  in  the  air,  the  droning 
of  bees,  the  buzzing  of  flics,  and  the  faint  twittering  of 
birds  alone  breaking  the  sylvan  silence — one  of  those 
mornings,  in  short,  when  lazy  folks  are  laziest,  and  the 
most  indefatigable  worker  in  the  human  hive  feels  in- 
clined to  become  a  drone.  Disbrowe  Park  lay  still  and 
voiceless,  basking  indolently  in  the  glowing  heat,  and 
looking  very  tempting  and  luxiu'iant  in  its  repose. 
There  were  few  fairer  manors  in  all  l)road  Enij^land ; 
and  not  one  went  past  that  day  who  did  not  envy  the 
fortunate  owner  of  such  an  earthly  paradise. 

That  same  owner — the  young  Lord  of  Earuecliife 
and  Guilford — lay  with  his  soul  in  slipj^ers,  "  taking 
life  eas}',"  in  his  dressing-room,  and  looking  the  very 
picture  of  ease  and  indolence,  and  indulging,  to  an  un- 
limited extent,  in  the  dolce  few  oi'tente.  It  was  a  per- 
fect little  bijou  of  a  room — as  cveiy  room  in  the  house 
was,  for  that  matter.  The  softest  of  velvet  carpets,  in 
which  the  foot  sank  out  of  sight  and  hearing  at  every 
step,  covered  the  oaken  floor ;  the  walls  were  painted 
with  a  solt,  bright,  neutral  tint,  and  adorned  with  per- 
fect little  gen)s  of  landscape  painting,  glimpses  of 
Italian  skies  and  sejis,  of  (ircrnian  woods  and  rivers,  of 
Scotch  mountains  and  glades,  of  American  forests  and 
Indian  jungles- -all  were  there,  and  all  masteri)ieces  of 
art.  In  the  niches  between  were  statues  of  rare  beauty 
and  price,  goddesses,  sylphs,  mermaids,  and  nymphs. 
Gilded  cages,  lilled  with  golden  canaries,  making  the 
air  resound  with  their  still,  sweet  voices;  Ijriiliant- 
winged  humming-birds,  and  gorgeous  tropical  songsters, 
hung  around.  Teni]^ting  couches,  sofas,  and  fauteuils 
were  scattered  profusely  about,  and  on  the  exipiisiLc 


^ 


<K 


mA 


M 


K'^ . 


";M' 


I  ' 


823 


^VJiMA. 


o      ' 


r 


ti! 


little  tables  lay  books,  jxipers,  and  letters,  yet  unopened 
and  unread.  A  deej)  hay  window,  liiing  with  heavy 
curtains  of  sarin  damask,  und  t'i:riiished  with  a  senu- 
eireular  couch — a  ^.-'lorious  i)lace  for  a  llirtation — ad- 
mitted the  radiant  simshiue,  and  an  extensive  view  of 
the  beautiful  i^rounds.  The  little  gem  of  a  room  had 
been  Lady  Earnecliife's  boudoir  once,  though  now 
transformed  into  tiie  dressing-rjom  of  the  present  lord 
— her  ladyship  being  abroad.  There  were  sundry 
marks  and  tokens,  bespeaking  plainly  enough  the  sex  of 
its  present  occupant — a  beautiiul  full-size  statue  of  JMi- 
nerva  had  been  adorned  with  a  pair  of  mustaches,  top 
boots,  and  a  wide-awake  ha.t.  Her  virgin  majesty, 
Queen  Elizabeth,  was  represented  regaling  herself  with 
a  cigar,  and  her  neighbor,  Mary  Stuart,  seemed  to  have 
all  her  energies  absorbed  in  balancing  a  bootjack  on  the 
top  of  her  head. 

The  young  lord  of  the  manor,  in  a  rich,  Turkish 
dressing-gown,  and  black-velvet  smoking-cap,  with  a 
gold  tassel,  lay  on  a  low  sofa,  at  full  length,  looking 
ve  y  handsome  and  very  lazy.  On  a  table  near  him  lay 
the  remains  of  a  tempting  breakfast ;  and  now  he  was 
alternately  re:i:alini>'  himself  with  smokinir  a  meer- 
schaum,  reading  the  letters  before  mentioned,  yawning, 
and  looking  out  of  the  window.  None  of  the  epistles 
seemed  to  have  the  power  of  fixing  his  attention  ;  for, 
after  glancing  lightly  over  them,  he  crumpled  them  up, 
and  threw  them  into  a  c/ujfojrniere,  which  had,  no 
doubt,  been  placed  there  for  that  purpose,  blew  a  few 
wdiilfs  of  his  meerschaum,  caressed  an  exquisitely  beauti- 
ful little  greyhound  that  lay  on  the  carpet  beside  him, 
and  leisurely  went  on  with  the  next,  which  shared  the 
same  fate.  At  last  he  lighted  upon  one  that  aroused  his 
wandering  thoughts ;  for  he  started  as  he  read  it,  and  a 
look  of  angry  annoyance  and  chagrin  passed  over  his 
face.  As  he  finished,  he  uttered  an  impatient  ejacula- 
tion, and,  springi?ig  to  his  feet,  began  pacing  rapidly 
up  and  down  the  room,  after  his  custom  when  angry 


I 


|(d 


NOIiifA. 


829 


I 


and   excited ;    and   at   last,   seizing   the  bell,  he  rang 
violently. 

A  servant  ont  of  livery,  his  valet  de  chamhre  and 
*'  eonlidential,"  etc.,  made  his  appearance. 

"  Norton,  has  Lord  Austrey  arrived  ?" 

"  Xo,  nij  lord,  not  yet." 

"  Tell  him  1  want  to  see  him  as  soon  as  he  comes, 
and — here,  take  this  away." 

lie  })ointe(l  to  the  remains  of  his  breakfast.  Nor- 
ton vanished  with  it,  and  his  master  thing  himself 
again  on  his  sofa,  with  a  discontented,  not  to  say  dis- 
consolate, expression  of  conntenance, 

"Deuce  take  it!  why  couldn't  she  stay  away  wIkmi 
she  was  away  ^  What  a  horrid  bore  it  will  be — the 
whole  thing !  And  the  worst  of  all  is,  I  se^Mio  help 
for  it.  I  wish  1  had  gone  abroad  with  Lady  ^[argaret, 
instead  of  rusticating  here.  I  would,  too,  only  1  have 
had  enoui2;h  of  c'oiuij:  abroad  for  a  while." 

A  tap  at  the  door  disturbed  his  irritated  solilo(|uy. 
"Come  in  !"  he  called  ;  and  Mr.  Norton  nuide  his  ap- 
pearance. 

"  Lord  Austrey,  my  lord,  has " 

"  There !  Lord  Austrey  can  announce  himself," 
said  that  individual,  springing  up  the  stairs  two  or 
three  steps  at  a  time.  ''That  will  do,  my  friend  ;  make 
yourself  thin  as  air  as  soon  as  possible." 

Mr.  Norton  bowed,  and  wentoif  ;  and  Lord  Austrey 
flung  himself  on  a  Inmigc  opposite  Disbrowo,  clapped 
his  liat  on  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  made  himself  comfort- 
able. 

"Now,  then  !  I  don't  see  why  taking  things  easy 
shouldn't  pay  in  my  case  as  well  as  in  other  i)eople's. 
Iv.ii;;;'f.lllfe,  my  dear  fellow,  what's  up  ^  You  look  as 
if  you  had  lost  your  best  friend." 

"What's  u})!  liead  that  I"  said  Disbrowe,  angrily 
throwing  him  the  crumj)led  letter.     "  No  need  to  ask." 

Lord  Austrey  leisurely  smoothed  it  out  and  glanced 
at  the  superscription. 


A' 


«* 


i, 


h-l 


r 


J '  ' 


'«'<! 


Jit  J 


111- 


*; 


,1,1  -4 


880 


NORMA. 


Iti»i 


!     f'       I 


"  *  To  the  night  Honorable^  the  Earl  of  Earne- 
cliffe.^ 

"  Humpli !  that's  all  right  enough.  Now  for  the 
inside ! 

" '  My  Dp:Aii  Alfred  : — You  "will  be  pleased  to 
liear  that  Norma  arrived  in  town  two  days  ago,  and  is 
at  present  visiting  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Treniain,  at  her 
residence  in  Berkeley  Square,  where,  no  doubt,  she  will 
be  delighted  to  sec  you  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 
"  '  Yours  truly,  Kandall  Macdonald.' 

"  That's  all.  It's  on  the  short,  sharp,  and  decisive 
principle.  And  now,  my  dear  Earneclifte,  let  me  con- 
gratulate you !" 

"  Congratulate  me  !"  said  Disbrowe,  looking  at  him. 
"  For  w^uit,  pray  ?" 

"  There's  a  question !"  exclaimed  Lord  Austrey, 
aj^iiealing  to  society  at  large.  "  The  man  asks  what  lie's 
to  be  congratulated  for,  when  his  lady-love,  who  has 
been  away  for — how  long  is  it,  Earnclilfe? — comes 
suddenly  back,  and  'will  be  delighted  to  see  you  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment' — in  fact,  hangs  like  a  ripe 
plum,  ready  to  drop  into  your  mouth  at  any  instant." 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  ripe  plums  ready  to  drop  into 
one's  mouth !"  said  Disbrowe,  dryly.  "  I  had  rather 
have  the  trouble  of  climbing,  and  plucking  one  for  my- 
self." 

"  Unreasonable  mortal !  you  might  get  a  severe 
scratching  in  the  attempt." 

"  I  would  risk  it.  The  greater  the  trial,  the  greater 
the  triumph,  you  know.  The  consciousness  of  gaining 
a  victory  would  more  than  repay  me  for  the  trouble." 

"  You  remind  me  of  the  old  adage : 

♦Fly  love,  and  love  will  follow  thee; 
Follow  love,  ivud  love  will  lice.' 

Now  where,  O  most  fastidious  youth,  can  you  find  one 


(l!M 


NORMA, 


881 


ter 


more  beautiful,  more  accomplished,  more  wealthy,  more 
fitted  ill  every  way  to  become  Countess  of  Eariieclille, 
than  this  same  Miss  Norma  Macdoiiald." 

"  Nowhere,  perhaps.  But,  supposinf]^  I  am  not  in- 
clined for  having  a  Countess  of  Larnecliffe  at  all,  what 
then  ?" 

"  Why,  you  never  mean  to  say  you  are  going  to 
perpetrate  single-blessedness  all  your  life  V 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know  but  what  I  shall ;  if 
I  can  get  my  head  out  of  this  noose,  I  mean." 

"  Why,  the  man's  crazy  !  Gone  stark,  staring  mad, 
as  sure  as  shooting  I  \)o  you  feel  any  violent  symp- 
toms coming  on,  my  dear  fellow  ?  or  do  you  feel  like 
the  country  swain  in  the  play,  '  Hot  and  dry  like,  with 
a  pain  in  your  side  like^'  Hadn't  I  better  ring  for 
Norton  and  the  smelling-bottle  i  I'm  afraid  you've 
had  a  rush  of  insanity  to  the  brain  lately,  and  that 
reminds  me — this  is  tlie  full  of  the  moon,  isn't  it? 
Where's  the  almanac  ?"  And  Lord  Austrey  started  to 
his  feet,  the  very  picture  of  consternation. 

"Pshaw!  Austrey,  don't  be  a — 1  mean,  don't  talk 
nonsense." 

"  Nonsense,  man  !  I  never  was  so  serious  before  in 
my  life.  I  should  hope  I  .had  cause.  When  a  man 
goes  and  sets  his  What's-their-names  'i — heart's  best  affec- 
tions, and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  on  his  friend,  and  then 
sees  him  a  fit  subject  for  JJedlam.  it  is  time  to  be 
serious,  I  think.  Give  up  Nornui !  What  the  uh:ncn- 
tionable-to-ears-politc  has  inspired  you  with  that  notion, 
most  unhappy  youth  f 

"  Austray,  1  wish  3'ou  would  be  serious  for  five  min- 
utes," said  Disbrowe,  springing  up  and  pacing  up  and 
down.  "  I  really  and  truly  do  want  to  get  out  of  this 
business,  if  I  possioiy  can.  You  are  the  only  friend  i 
can  decently  consnlt  on  the  sub  J'  >it ;  and  as  you  happen 
to  be  a  relative  of  mine,  I  don't  mind  spealdng  to  you 
about  it." 

"  A  fifty-fourth  cousin,  or  something  of  that  sort — 
ain't  I  i    The   first  tremendous  shock  is  over,  and  I 


I 


li' 


tf'« 


l\ 


w 


f 


1' 


w 


332 


NORMA. 


m 


Ni 


:,i 


W 


i '4 1  "If* 


have  steeled  mv  heart,  and  nothintr  can  move  me  more. 
Hand  me  that  bottle  of  sal  volatile.  Now  Fin  prepared 
for  the  worst ;  so  make  readj — ])resL'nt — iire  !'' 

"  iViistroy,  imll  yon  sto[)  your  nonsense,  and  listen 
to  me  r'  exelainied  Disbi-owe,  in  a  rage.  "'Can't  you 
be  sensible  for  once  in  yonr  life  C 

"  AV^cll,  there — Fin  dc^nc  !"  said  Anstrej'',  adjusting 
the  j)illow  more  comfortably  under  his  head.  "  I'll 
promise  to  l»e  as  sensible  as  is  consistent  with  the  intel- 
lectual faculties  Xature  has  gifted  me  with.  JS'ow, 
state  the  case.  Yon  want  to  get  clear  of  this  contract 
of  yours — do  you  V 

"  Yes." 

"  J  hit  why — what's  the  reason  ?" 

"  Well,  I'm  in  no  humor  for  marrying  for  half  a 
dozen  years  yet,  for  one  thing;  and  Miss  Is'orma  Mac- 
donald  does  not  suit  me,  for  another." 

"  You're  engaged  to  her — are  you  not?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  it  was  an  engagement  of  her  father 
and  Eurneclille's  making." 

"So!  and  the  Honorable  Alfred  Disbrowe  and 
Miss  Korma  had  no  voice  in  the  matter  V 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  made  no  objection. 
There  is  a  wide  dilference  between  a  portionless 
younger  brother  an<l  a  titled  carl,  you  know,  and — " 

''And  the  heiress  that  would  have  suited  Alfred 
Disbrowe  to  a  T,  doesn't  exactly  cojue  up  to  the  mark 
for  the  Earl  of  Earned  ilTe,  I  see  !" 

Disbrowe  colored  slightly. 

"  It  looks  rather  villainous — doesn't  it  ?  But  the 
fact  is,  I  never  loved  Xonna  as  a  man  should  love  the 
"woman  he  intends  to  spend  his  life  with  ;  but  you 
know  the  proverb,  moi'o  expressive  than  elegant  : 
'Needs  nuist  when  the  devil  drives  !'  And  I  was  con- 
fouiuledly  hard  up,  over  head  and  ears  in  debt  to  the 
children  of  Irael ;  and,  in  fact,  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  then.  Now,  however,  I  have  money  enough  ;  and, 
upon  my  soul,  Austrey  !  1  cannot  tell  you  how  repuii- 


nant  the  idea  of  this  marriaije  is  to  me. 


55 


I'epi 


NORMA. 


883 


■)  * 


There  was  an  aliuoiit  jxijisioiuite  velicineiK^e  in  liis 
tone.  Lord  Anstrej  looked  at  liini,  and  slijj^litlj  smiled. 

"I  sav,  EarnecHlTe,  yon  (li<ln't  leave  }'our  heart  be- 
hind yon  in  America,  I  hope  C 

Diribrowo  tnrned  white  for  a  moment,  even  to  his 
lips.  His  friend  wiw  his  mistake,  and  instantly  re- 
gretted what  he  had  said. 

"  ]VIy  dear  fellow,  I  beg  ^''onr  pardon !  1  only 
epoke  in  jest ;  I  had  no  idea — " 

"Enough,"  said  DIsbrowe,  wavitig  his  hand.  "Say 
no  more  about  it.  But  now^  that  you  have  heard  the 
case,  as  you  call  it,  M'hat  am  I  to  do  ?  I  want  to  get 
rid  of  this  engagement  without  hurting  the  young 
lady's  feelings.'- 

"I  wonder  if  slie  cares  for  you?" 

"She  used  to,  I  think.  Time,  though,  may  have 
changed  her  in  that  particular." 

"If  it  hasn't,  Til  be  hanged  if  I  see  how  you  are  to 
get  rid  of  your  fetters.  You  can't  go  and  tell  the  poor 
girl  you  don't  care  about  her,  and  ask  her  to  cancel  the 
bond.  Women  are  privileged  to  do  such  things,  but 
men,  unhappily,  are  not.  You  would  have  that  old 
fire-eater,  her  father,  shooting  you  lirst,  and  suing  you 
for  a  breach  of  promise  after." 

"  It  would  be  a  territic  pitch  of  fatherly  vengeance 
to  shoot  me,  and  make  me  pay  damages,  too,"  said  Dis- 
browe,  with  a  slight  laugh,  "llcigho!  there  is  noth- 
ing for  it,  then,  but  yielding  to  Fate  and  Miss  Norma 
Macdonald." 

"  Yes,  supposing  she  is  in  love  with  you  still ;  but 
if,  in  the  meantime,  she  has  went  and  splashed  her  af- 
fections on  somebody  else-  -eh  r' 

"  Oh,  in  that  case,  all  vould  be  as  right  as  a  trivet. 
I  couldn't  tliiidv  of  forcing  a  young  lady,  you  know, 
against  her  will." 

"  Decidedly  not.  The  man  who  would  do  such  a 
thing  would  deserve  to  be,  for  the  rest  of  his  mortal 
life,  a  mark  for  the  linger  of  scorn  to  poke  fun  at. 
Well,  now,  suppose   I  go  in  and  win  there,  fascinate 


^** 


^ 


« 


I 


fi     ! 


y  I 


1:1 


884 


NORAfA. 


.1  K 


the  young  womiin,  got  a  ricli  wife,  and  clear  you,  thus 
obliu::iiig  inysoU'  and  my  friend  at  tlie  same  time.  Q. 
E.  1).,  that's  demonstrated,  as  that  old  fool,  Numbskull, 
used  to  say  at  Oxford." 

"  i\Iy  dear  Austrey — ]/ou  V 

"  My  dear  E  irnecliffe,  me — decidedly  me  ;  nobody 
else.  I  flatter  mvself  I'm  e<|ual  to  the  task."  said  the 
young  man,  glancing  complacently  at  his  handsome 
face  and  figure  in  tlie  glass. 

"And  you  really  intend  to  try  to  captivate  her?" 

"I  most  really  and  emphatically  do." 

^''  Et  jruh?^^  said  Disbrowe,  laughing. 

"And  then  I  will  make  her  Liuly  Austrey;  her 
father  wants  to  get  her  a  title,  and  1  don't  see  why 
Austrey  is  not  as  good  as  Earneclitfe.  To  be  sure,  you 
are  worth  a  score  of  thousands  a  year,  and  I  about 
enough  to  buy  kid  gloves  and  pale  ale ;  but  he  has  the 
gilt,  and  he  might  as  well  let  me  spend  it  as  anybody 
else." 

"  A  very  delightful  scheme,  my  good  friend  ;  and 
therefore,  of  course,  quite  impracticable.  Old  Mac- 
donald  has  set  his  heart  on  marrying  me  to  hia 
daughter ;  and  do  you  suppose  he  will  coolly  stand  by 
and  see  you  win  the  golden  prize?  I  don't  doubt 
your  success  with  the  lady  ;  she  has  been  shut  up  like 
a  nun  all  her  life,  and  will  be  a  regular  Eastern  bride 
for  cxclusiveness  ;  and,  being  of  the  intensely-romantic 
order,  will  be  ready  to  forget  me  and  love  you  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice  ;  but  ah !  her  father  is  another  affair !" 

"  What  a  bore  fathers  are !"  said  the  young  lord,  in 
a  tone  of  displeased  criticism.  "  I  don't  see  why  pretcy 
ii'irls  need  have  such  tliini^s  at  ail.  8o  Miss  Normals 
romantic — is  she  ?  ller  idea  of  a  lover,  I  suppose,  is 
derived  from  those  charming  pictur-^s,  where  the 
scenery  is  all  balconies,  I'oses,  and  curtains  out  of  doors, 
and  where  a  ^j-entleman  in  ti<>:lits  and  a  ijruitar  is  ur^j-ino; 
a  ladv,  on  his  knees,  to  go  to  sea  with  him  in  something 
that  looks  like  a  floating  cradle,  or  a  hearse  amusing 
itself  with  a  sail.     Well,  so  much  the  better;  Bhe  will 


NORMA. 


S80 


ide 


m 

Mi's 

is 

:lie 

lug 

•ill 


bo  all  tlie  easier  iiiuimged,  and  haiidsomo  ladies  are 
priviicGjed  to  be  silly.  As  to  the  •governor,  he's  very 
fond  of  his  dani^hter — isn't  he  C 

"  Passionately — qnire  d(^tes  v>n  her." 

"  All  right  then  !  she'll  fall  in  love  with  me,  that's 
settled — obdurate  parient  will  insist  oi-  her  rnarrjinf; 
you.  Lady  weeps,  flin^i^s  herself  at  his  feet,  and  bathes 
them  with  her  tears.  Obdurate  parent  molts — calls  to 
poor  but  strictly  honest  lover,  who  is  always  on  hand, 
places  lovely  daughter's  hand  in  his,  and  says :  '  Take 
her,  you  dog!'  Lovers  fall  at  his  feet.  Obdurate 
parent  stretches  out  his  hands,  rolls  up  his  eyes  to  the 
ceiling,  and  apostrophizes  the  flies :  '  Spirit  of  my 
sainted  Elizabeth,  behold  my  happiness — bless  you,  my 
children !  may  you  be  happy  !'  And  then  the  curtain 
falls,  and  there  it  ends." 

"  Xo,"  said  Disbrowe,  laughing,  '*  then  comes  the 
farce,  consisting  of  a  hen-pecked  husband  and  thirteen 
tow-headed  Xormas  and  Georges." 

Lord  Austrey  made  a  grimace. 

"Ugh!  don't  mention  it!  Call  that  a  farce — a 
tragedy,  more  likely.  Well,  but  really,  and  truly,  and 
soberly,  Earnecliffe,  1  don't  see  why  this  plan  should 
not  work." 

"  We  can  try  it,  but  I  confess  I  am  skeptical.  Will, 
you  come  with  me  to  town  f 

"  Certainly  !  when  do  you  go  ?" 

"AVe  may  as  well  start  now,  I  suppose.  It  will 
help  to  kill  time,  and  that  itself  is  no  trilling  considera- 
tion. For  though  the  dolce  far  niente  is  pleasant 
enough  for  once  in  a  way,  yet  there  is  such  a  possibility 
as  having  too  much  of  a  good  thing.  So  I  will  order 
horses  at  once." 

lie  ]'ang  the  bell  as  he  spoke,  and  gave  the  necessary  ' 
commands,  and  then  arose  to  divest  himself  of  his 
dressing-gown,  and  don  the  coat  and  pants  of  out-door 
life,  while  Lord  George  Austrey  went  oil  whistling, 
"  Hear  me.  Norma,"  to  make  a  few  alterations  in  his 
outer  lord  also  (if  the  expression  be  allowable).     How 


.if 


It 


i 


' 


Uiii 


r;     i 


m 


336 


NORMA. 


the  sad,  plaintive  air  recalled  Foiitelle  and  Jaccjuetta  to 
Dis))ro\ve. 

Next  moriiini^,  at  the  earliest  possible  hour  that 
fashion  would  ])enuit,  our  two  young  "  peers  of  the 
realm,"  in  faultless  morning  costume,  "got  up,"  as 
Lord  Austrey  complacently  remarked,  "  regardless  of 
expense,"  placed  their  patent-leather  boots  on  the 
aristocratic  doorstep  of  the  Tremain  mansion.  A  por- 
ter, quite  as  aristocratic  as  the  door-step,  admitted  them 
to  a  sumptuous  drawing-room,  and  left  them  to  them- 
selves. 

"  I  dreamt  tliat  I  dwelt  in  marble  halls,"  hinnmed 
Lord  Austrey ;  "silence  and  solitude  this.  I  wonder 
how  long  Mis-  Norma  will  Ivcep  us  waiting." 

Scarcely  had  he  spoKcn  when  the  door  opened, 
and  a  short,  roll-about  little  woman,  all  smiles  and  dim- 
ples, came  in. 

"  My  dear  Lord  Earnecliffe,  welcome  home  !  wo 
were  all  very  sorry,  indeed,  to  hear  of  your  loss,  but 
such  things  must  be  expecred  in  this  life.  Good  morn- 
ing. Lord  George ;  it  is  quite  an  age  since  I  have  seen 
you.     What  have  3^ou  been  doing  with  yourself  lately  ?" 

"  Rusticating  at  Disbrowe  Park,  Mrs.  Tremain, 
admiring  the  l)eautles  of  Nature,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
you  know,"  answered  that  young  g'Titlenuui. 

"  And  leaving  all  the  youno;  ladies  to  wear  the  wil- 
low,  you  naughty  boy,"  said  J\[rs.  Tremain,  who  was 
a  distant  relative  of  Lord  George's,  and  privileged  to 
talk  to  him  as  she  jileascd.  "  Positively,  at  Mrs.  Des- 
mond's card  l)arty  the  other  night,  they  were  every  one 
asking  for  you,  and  went  feebly  about,  like  so  many 
drooping  lilies,  when  they  heard  you  had  left  town. 
It  was  quite  heart-rending,  1  assure  you  !" 

"  Ileal  ly  now!  I  wasn't  aware  I  was  such  a  lady- 
killer.  I  must  endeavor  to  countei'act  my  many  fas- 
cinations for  the  future,  I  see,  in  mercy  to  the  tender 
sex." 

"  Yon  are  hardly  looking  so  well  as  when  I  saw  you 
last,  my  lord,"  said  Mrs.  Tremain,  turning  to  Disbrowe. 


NORMA. 


337 


|.'\(ly- 

lider 

I  you 
)we. 


"  you  are  quite  pale  and  thin.  Do  you  not  think  so, 
George  V 

"  All  the  more  interesting^,  Mrs.  Tremain.  Younuj 
ladies  a(hnire  that  sort  of  thinii;,  I  liave  heard.  JA;t 
him  keep  on  a  low  diet  for  a  fortnii^ht  or  so,  and  read 
tlie  '  Soi'rows  of  Werter '  for  an  hour  every  day,  to- 
gether with  a  small  dose  of  '  Paradise  Lost,'  and  TU 
bet  my. diamond  rin<j^  against  a  ducat  that  by  the  end 
of  that  time  he'll  be  ai>le  to  play  the  'Starved  Apothe- 
cary,' and  have  every  female  woman  in  Berkeley  and 
Grosvenor  squares,  not  to  speak  of  Piccadilly  and  the 
West  End,  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  him." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Disbrowe.  ''  1  had  rather  be 
excused.  J  hope  Miss  Macdonald  is  well,  Mrs.  Tremain  ?" 

"  Quite  well — she  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  How 
did  you  enjoy  your  visit  to  America,  my  lord  f' 

"  Very  much." 

"  llow  is  Mr.  De  Vere  I  I  knew  him  when  we 
were  both  younger  than  we  are  now,  and  we  were 
great  friends.     You  visited  him,  of  course'^" 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  I  spent  some  weeks  with  him.  Ho 
is  very  well." 

"And  you  really  liked  America?  It  is  not  much 
like  England,  1  sui)pose.  It  must  be  a  strange  country, 
I  think,  where  all  classes  are  on  an  equality,  negro 
elaves  and  all.  Dreadfully  barbarous,  I  think.  I 
shouldn't  like  it  at  all." 

Before  Disbrowe  could  reply,  the  door  opened,  and 
Norma  Macdonald,  the  object  of  all  their  schemes  and 
plottings,  entere*' — the  iwxv  Jiancee  ot  i^ord  Earneclitfe. 

She  was  tall  and  sligiit,  and  peculiarly  graceful  in 
form,  with  a  complexion  of  snowy  whiteness,  unrelieved 
by  the  faintest  tinge  of  color,  save  in  the  full,  rounded 
lips.  Her  hair  was  of  a  bright-golden  hue,  and  was 
worn  in  a  pretty  siik  lu^t,  something  like  the  present 
fashion  ;  but  instead  of  the  blue  eyes  that  shouhl  have 
accompanied  that  pearly  face  and  })ale-gold  hair,  her 
eyes  were  large,  lustrous,  and  intensely  dark.  The 
fair  hair  and  complexion  she   had   inherited  from  her 


>!l, 


t 


11? 


:!i 


M 


i 


t 
1 

•( 

! 

'i 

.1 

•  r 

*     '       'l 

,:1 

■     I 

1    « 

"\ 

f 

888 


NORMA. 


k  \  wM 


Scotch  fjitlicr ;  tlic  dark  eyes  and  romantic  nature,  from 
her  frail  and  g-iddy  French  mother.  A  dresc  of  dark- 
bhic  silk  set  ott"  to  the  best  advantage  her  pecuhar 
style  of  beanty  :  and  very  hjvely  and  very  graceful  in- 
deed she  looked — so  nmch  so,  that  Lord  Aiistrey  won- 
dered inwardly  at  his  friend's  insensibility,  and  felt  diat 
a  prize  like  this  was  well  worth  even  his  while  to  try 
for.  Both  gentlemen  arose  upon  her  entrance,  and 
Disbrowe  had  to  acknowledge  that  seldom  had  his  eyes 
rested  on  one  more  lovely,  lie  thought  of  Jacquetta, 
wild,  spirited,  daring,  bewitching;  and  she  seemed  like 
the  dark-hued,  brilliant  passion-liower  of  her  native 
land,  to  a  shy,  fragrant  violet,  this  pale,  gentle  English 
girl. 

She  dropped  her  large,  black  eyes,  and  laid  her  liiy 
hand  for  a  moment  in  theirs,  mnrnniring  a  few  words 
of  welcome  to  both,  and  then  retreated  to  a  sofa.  Still 
and  reserved  she  looked,  but  perfectly  easy  and  self- 
possessed;  yet,  as  she  sat  down,  there  was  just  the 
faintest  perceptible  tinge  of  pink  in  those  pearly  cheeks, 
called  there  by  some  inward  feeling. 

Disbrowe  looked  at  her,  comi)letely  at  a  loss.  Was 
this  the  enthusiastic,  wild-eyed  girl  he  liad  left — this 
cold,  still,  moonlight  young  lady — so  composed  and 
serene'^  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes,  or  his  ears, 
or  his  senses,  as  lie  looked,  and  listened,  and  wondered, 
but — yes — it  was  the  same  Norma,  in  body,  but  ani- 
mated by  a  dilhM'cnt  spirit.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  her 
face — riveted  there,  unconscious  of  his  rudeness  ;  until 
she  raised  liers,  suddenly,  with  a  look  of  calm  surprise, 
before  which  he  colore-d  slightly,  aiul  removed  his  gaze. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  in  London,  my  lord," 
she  said,  quietly.  "  I  understood  you  were  at  Disbrowe 
Park." 

"I  was,  until  yesterday.  1  heard,  then,  you  were 
in  town,  and  so  called." 

"  So  then  I  am  indebted  to  Norma  for  the  honor  of 
this  visit,"  said  Mrs.  Tremain ;  "  but,  of  course,  I  might 


'''     '  iW" 


I       j 


ro 

of 
ht 


/ 


NORMA. 


889 


have  known  you  wonld  never  have  called  to  see  your 
old  friend,  but  for  a  fairer  magnet." 

Ditsbrowe  aroused  the  old  lady  by  some  gay  compli- 
ment, and  Lord  (xcorge  began  chatting  with  Norma — 
"  drawing  her  out,"  as  he  al'terward  informed  L'isbrowe, 
"  to  see  wiiat  she  was  made  of." 

"  And  so  you  have  been  rambling  all  summer,  too, 
Miss  Macdonald,  like  our  friend  here?  Wiiile  he  was 
doing  the  savage  tril)es  of  North  Amei-ica,  you  were 
roving  through  the  huul  of  kilts  and  porridge,  '  o'er  the 
muir  amonix  the  heather.'  " 

"'  Come,  my  lord,  speak  respectfully  of  the  land  of 
rivers  and  mountains.  Remember,  I  am  a  stanch 
Scotch  lassie." 

"Oh,  your  natioupbty  is  not  likely  to  be  mistaken 
while  you  are  called  Miss  Macdonald.  By  the  way,  is 
Mr.  Macdonald  in  town  ?" 

"No — papa  has  gone  over  to  Boulogne  on  business 
for  a  few  weeks." 

"All  right,"  thought  Lord  George;  "the  coast  is 
clear — but  faith  !  1  beuin  to  fear  the  voun«r  lady  is  no 


such  easy  prize  as  1  thought  he 


5» 


"  And  vou  have  been  away,  too — have  vou  not  ? 


?5 


J) 


asked  the  young  lady. 

"Oh,  only  out  to  Disbrowe  Park!  Splendid  place 
for  doing  the  dole  a  far  nhnite^  as  Karneclitfe  calls  it. 
What  does  that  mean,  Miss  Macdon;ild  h  It's  a  rejj-ular 
Castle  of  Lidolence,  where  the  sun  shines  from  o!ie 
year's  end  to  the  other,  and  the  very  dogs  are  too  lazy 
to  bark." 


my 


"  Indeed  !  I  hope  you  have  not  caught  the  infection, 

lord  !" 

Before  Lord  Austrey  could  indignantly  repudiate 
any  such  notion,  Mrs.  Tremain,  who  had  been  earnestly 
conversinir  with  Disbrowe,  exclaimed 


u 


Oh,  i 


\\\\\  certain  iNorma  knows 


N 


oruia,  IS 


that 


portfolio  of  Emily's  in  your  boudoii'^     As  Lord  Earne- 
clilfe  has  just  come  from  America,  I  wau    ^o  show  him 


li 


j*i'' 

^^i;!l 


(itil 


*jll 


M 


A\ 


,1^ 


It  ;■♦ 


i 


If  It 


r  ■  ■/! 


840 


NORMA. 


tliat  American  scene  you  and  Emily  were  trying  to 
finish  yesterday." 

"  My  dear  annt !"  exclaimed  the  lady,  rising,  in  evi- 
dent alarm. 

"Nonsense!  nonsense!  My  dear  lord,  she  is  so, 
bashful  about  such  things,  you  would  never  know  how 
well  she  can  draw,  if  1  did  not  show  you.  I  will  go 
and  iind  it." 

For  one  monient  Miss  Macdonald  stood  as  if  about 
to  follow  after  her;  but  meeting  the  strange  eye  of 
Disbrowe,  she  relinquished  her  design,  and  sank  back 
in  evident  agitation  on  the  sofa. 

"  llow  cruel  of  you,  Miss  Macdonald,"  said  Lord 
Austrey,  "  to  wish  to  deprive  us  of  the  pleasure  of 
looking  at  the  work  of  your  f;iir  hands!  J  am  sure 
both  Earnecliffe  and  I  will  bo  delighted  to  criticise  the 
drawing,  and  point  out  its  defects." 

"How  very  gallant!  1  presume  you  are  about  as 
good  a  critic  as  I  am  an  artist.  I>ut,  indeed,  1  would 
rather  aunt  would  not  show  you  this.  Emily  was  read- 
ing an  American  novel  the  otlier  day,  and  attempted 
to  sketch  a  scene  it  described,  and  I  assisted  her;  and 
I  am  afraid  Lord  Earnodilfe,  who  has  been  over  there, 
will  laugh  at  our  poor  elforts." 

"How  can  you  suspect  mo  of  anything  so  shocking, 
Miss  Norma?  Ah!  you  ought  to  see  those  American 
scenes  and  draw  from  life.  I  am  certain,  if  you  are  a 
lover  of  Nature,  and  have  not  quite  outlived  all  your 
old  enthusiasm,  you  would  be  delighted  with  them.  H" 
you  only  could  see  Eon  telle  !" 

"  Eontelle  !"  exclaimed  Lord  George.  "  Is  there  a 
Fontelle  there,  too?" 

"  Yes — my  uncle's  residence  :  and  the  very  moral, 
as  my  old  nurse  used  to  say,  of  Eontelle  Park — mhivs 
the  park.  Well,  my  dear  Mrs.  Tremain,  did  you  iind 
the  drawing?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord  ;  here  it  is." 

She  handed  him  the  drawing,  and  he  uttered  an 
ejaculation  of  amazement  as  he  looked  at  it.     For  it 


NORMA. 


341 


A 


';iu 

|e  a 

►ui* 

If 


l-al, 
ud 


Ian 
it 


waB  the  "  Mcnnaid,"  and  the  scenery  aronnd  it  to  tlie 
very  life !  There  was  tlie  river,  the  shore,  tlie  lonii;, 
strngi^ling,  deserted  road,  tlie  solitary  inn,  and  the  hills 
and  woods  in  the  distance.  And  there,  too,  out  in  the 
river,  was  the  low,  dark  schooner  of  Oai)tain  Xick 
Tempest,  as  he  had  seen  it  the  lirst  evening  he  had 
ridden  that  way. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  lie  exclaimed, 
looking  up  ;  ''that  is  the  Mermaid  inn  for  a  ducat  I — 
that  is  the  Hudson  river,  and  that  schooner  is  the  '  Flv- 
by-^ight,'  as  sure  as  my  name's  Earneclilfe.  Why, 
Miss  is^orma,  are  you  a  magician  V 

She  laughed  as  bIic  met  his  eyes,  but  her  fair  cheeks 
were  crimson. 

"  Not  exactly  !  But  you  arc  laughing  at  me,  Lord 
EaiTieclilfe  1  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  poor  sketch  is 
like  anything  you  have  ever  seen  V 

"To  the  very  life!  I  have  looked  on  that  very 
Bceue  dozens  of  times." 

"Something,  perhaps,  slightly  resembling  it?" 

"  No ;  that,  as  it  is,  to  an  iota,  without  a  shadow  of 
difference.  Some  one  must  have  described  this  to  you, 
Norma !" 

"  Oh  I"  said  Mrs.  Tremain,  anxious  her  own  daugh- 
ter should  share  the  credit,  "  Emily  connnenced  it  from 
a  description  she  read  from  a  book — probably  the  scene 
was  laid  in  that  part  of  America  where  you  were. 
Norma  assisted  her  to  linish  it,  only." 

"  It  is  an  odd  circumstance,  any  way.  I  Avonder 
what  Mr.  Rowlie  would  say,  if  he  knew  two  English 
ladies  had  been  sketching  his  inn  ?"  And  Disbrowe 
laughed  at  the  idea. 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Kowlio?"  asked  Lord  Austrcy. 

"  Oh  I  a  particular  friend  of  mine — keeps  that  inn 
you  see  there — a  glorious  old  fellow  he  is,  with  tho 
nicest  little  wife!  Shall  I  tell  you  all  that  picture 
wants.  Miss  Macdonald,  to  make  it  complete?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  by  all  means !     What  is  it  ?" 

"Well — a  rider  before  tho  door,  horsewhipping  an 


■in 


I 


li 


1 


,n 


r 


342 


NORMA. 


elderly  individual  with  the  most  villainous  face  vou  can 
possibly  draw  ;  while  a  bov,  as  handsome  as  an  an^cl, 
and  dressed  like  a  staL:;e  l)riu:and,  interferes  to  keep  the 
peace.     You  will  have  ;i  strikini^  secne  from  life  then/' 

"  Striking  !"•  exclaimed  Lord  George.  "  Faith  !  I 
should  say  so — a  pretty  subject,  that,  for  Miss  Mac- 
donald's  pencil !" 

After  a  few  more  remarks  on  the  subject  of  the 
sketch,  both  gentlemen  arose  to  go.  Lord  Austrey  and 
Mrs.  Tremain  were  conversing  together  in  one  part  of 
the  room,  whilst  Disbrowe  was  taking  his  departure 
with  Norma. 

She  turned  to  him  with  an  agitated  face,  as  he 
arose  to  go ;  and  without  looking  up,  said,  hurriedly, 
and  with  a  heightened  color: 

''  Lord  Eai'neclilfe,  I  have  something  very  important 
to  say  to  you  in  private,  and  as  soon  as  may  be.  When 
can  1  see  you  again  ?" 

Her  evident  agitation,  her  downcast  face,  and 
hurried  voice,  amazed  him. 

"At  any  time  you  please.  I  am  always  at  your 
service,  Norma.'' 

"  Then  this  evening — arc  you  engaged  ?" 

"  No.    I  have  no  engagement  that  I  cannot  break." 

"  Then  Mrs.  Tremain  and  Emily  will  be  out,  and  I 
will  be  alone.     Will  you  call  this  evening?" 

"  I.  shall  be  only  too  happy." 

"  It  is  a  strange  request,  1  know,"  she  said,  coloring 
in  painful  embarrassment ;  "  but  you  will  understand  mo 
this  evening.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  this  interview 
should  take  place,  and  ininicdlately.  1  see  Lord  Aus- 
trey is  going;  so  good  morning,  my  lord." 

He  bent  over  the  hand  she  extended,  completely 
puzzled  by  her  strange  manner ;  and  wdien  Lord  Aus- 
trey had  made  his  adieu,  both  went  out  together.  The 
latter  gentleman's  cab  stood  at  the  door,  and  they 
sprang  in  and  drove  off. 

"  13y  Jove  I    she's  a  beauty  I"   enthusiastically  ex- 


I 


»g 


.y 

IS- 


X- 


NORMA. 


343 


claimed  Lord  George,  as  they  dashed  along.  '•  I  am 
halt'  in  love  with  her  already." 

"AVhieh — the  aunt  or  the  niece?" 

"  Oh,  j)ooh  !  I  hope  my  religions  edn(;ation  has  not 
been  so  far  negleeted  that  I  did  not  learn  the  Com- 
mandment: 'Thou  slialt  not  covet  tliy  neighl)or''s 
wife.'  Don't  you  think  la  l:Ue  Norma  has  improved 
since  you  saw  her  last : ' 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Lord  Earnecliffe,  slowly.  "  She  has 
altered,  but  whether  it  is  an  improvement  or  not,  I  am 
not  ready  to  say  at  this  present  moment." 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  she  is  not  such  a  gushing 
young  female  as  she  was." 

"Ko;  but  she  has,  unhappily,  gone  to  the  other 
extreme.  Iler  manner  seemed  cold,  constrained,  un- 
natural, I  thought." 

"Oh,  that  was  caused  by  meeting  her  l)etrothed 
*  afore  folks.'  If  you  had  been  alone,  it  would  have 
been  a  different  story." 

"Well,  I  am  soon  likely  to  know.  I  am  to  see  her 
this  evening." 

"  Whew  !   You're  not  going  there  again — arc  you?" 

"  Yes.     Have  you  any  objection  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  ;  most  decided  ()l)jections — most  de- 
cided  objections !  Have  you  forgotten  she  is  to  be 
Lady  Austrey,  and  that  you  have  given  up  all  right, 
claim,  and  title  to  the  lady  C 

"  Well,  no  ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  engagement 
was  of  her  own  making.  She  told  me  she  would  be 
alone,  and  asked  me  to  come." 

Lord  Austrey  fell  back,  and  indulged  in  a  long, 
wailing  whistle  of  intensest  surprise. 

"  There's  Miss  Slyboots  for  you !  Oh,  your  shy 
ones  are  never  to  be  trusted  !  What,  in  Heaven's  name, 
can  she  want  with  you  this  evening  ?" 

"  That  is  somethinii:  1  did  not  ask  her.  To  give  mo 
my  coil])  do  cont/e^  I  should  judge  by  her  look  when 
giving  the  invitation.  She  said  it  was  of  the  utmost 
importance,  and  was  to  be  heard  by  me  alone." 

15* 


,4 

* 


'h; 


t'  : 


h\ 


'1^' 


i' 


■I- 


y  H 


344 


NORMA. 


\M 


"  Well,  I  am  astonished !  I  saj,  Earnecliffe,  you 
won'b  niake  love  to  her — will  you  ?  Honor  bright,  you 
know." 

Dishrowe  laughingly  promised.  And  they  were 
soon  driving  through  the  park,  too  busy  answering 
bows  and  Balutationa  to  talk  further  of  Norma. 


i;S    >r: 


OFF     WITH     THE    OLD    LOVE. 


846 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


OFF  WITH  THE  OLD   LOVE. 

**  Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  wooed? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won? 
I'll  have  her!"  — Shakspeub. 

OR  some  cause  or  otlicr,  Disbrowc  felt  ex- 
tremely anxious  for  the  hour  to  come  when 
lie  was  to  see  Norma.  Jlcr  manner,  even 
more  than  her  words,  had  implied  chat  the 
interview  betokened  somethin<^  serious  and 
She  had  been  completely  transl'ormed  jsinco 
he  had  seen  her  last ;  changed  more  than  he  had 
thought  it  possible  any  one  could  be  in  so  brief  a  ti:ne  ; 
and  her  manner  to  liim  had  been  something  more  than 

<^'old.     What   could    be    the 


unusual. 


was    rigidly 

»ssible  that  during  his  absence  she 


reserved — it 

cause?     Was  it  p( 

had  contracted  another  attachment,  and  was  anxious  to 

be  rid  of  the  old  one  ?     "  Too  good  to  be  true,"  he 

thought,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  strove  to  account  for  her 

agitation  and  coldness  in  some  other  way. 

The  drawing,  too,  trivial  as  the  matter  was,  puzzled 
him  not  a  little.  That  any  one  could  have  sketched 
the  whole  scene  so  accurately  from  merely  reading  a 
random  description,  he  could  not  believe  ;  it  must  have 
been  seen,  to  be  so  faithfully  depicted.  Yet  who  was 
there  to  see  it  ?  Neither  Emily  Tremain  nor  Norma 
Macdonald  had  ever  visited  America,  he  felt  certain ; 
and  who  was  there  but  himself:'  to  describe  it  to  them  ? 
Altogether,  he  felt  more  completely  mystified  and  puz- 
zled than  he  had  ever  done  about  a  smiUl  nuittcr  in  all 
his  life  before. 


i'i 


i 

''i  1 


.? 


846 


OFF    WITH     rilE    OLD    LOVE. 


rf       111 


I 


At  an  early  hour  that  evening,  lie  presented  him- 
self at  the  Trcmain  House,  and  was  shown  by  the  aris- 
tocratic porter  respectfully  mentioned  before,  through 
a  "  marble  hall "  into  the  ]iarlor,  and  left  to  his  own 
devices,  while  the  yellow-plush  gentleman  went  to  have 
Miss  Macdonald  apprised  of  her  visitor. 

lie  had  not  long  to  wait.  Tlie  door  presently 
opened,  and  Norma  entered,  paler  even  than  she  was  in 
the  morning,  and  looking  as  when  he  had  seen  her  last, 
agitated  and  troubled. 

She  scarcely  looked  up  as  he  advanced  to  meet  her, 
and  shrank  away  visibly  when  he  led  her  to  a  sola,  and 
took  a  seat  beside  her.  But  she  need  not  liave  been 
alarmed  ;  had  he  been  an  archbishop,  he  could  not  have 
behaved  with  more  gravity  and  decorum.  There  was 
very  little  of  the  ardent  lover  about  Lord  Earnecliffeat 
that  moment.  His  heart  was  far  over  the  sea  with  Jac- 
quetta  in  her  lonely  grave. 

There  was  <'i  brief  and  embarrassed  silence,  which 
the  lady  was  the  first  to  break : 

"  You  were  doubtless  surprised,  my  lord,"  she  be- 
gan, in  a  slightly-tremulous  voice,  "  by  my  somewhat 
strange  request,  and  I  beg — I  beg — you  will  not  be  of- 
fended at  what  I  am  about  to  sny." 

This  was  a  promising  beginning.  Disbrowe  looked 
at  her,  wondering  what  in  the  world  was  to  follow  this 
preface. 

"  Nothing  you  can  say,  Norma,  will  offend  me,"  he 
replied,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  expected  to 
answer  to  this  strange  address. 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so.  Gentlemen  all  have  a 
large  share  of  native  vanity — have  they  not?"  she  said, 
looking  up  for  the  first  time  with  a  smile. 

Keally,  I  can't  take  it   upon   myself  to  say  posi- 


ts 


tively 


>j 


I  have  heard  so  ;  and  if  it  is  true,  what  I  liave  to 
say  may  wound  your  vanity — and  for  that  1  beg  pardon 
beforehand." 


(( 


It  is  granted.    Pray  go  on,  Miss  Norma,  what 


!l. 


OFF     WITH     THE    OLD    LOVE. 


847 


I'i' 


3e- 
lat 
of- 

vcd 
this 

he 
to 

'e  a 
aid, 

losi- 


hat 


awful  death-blow  is  my  vanity  destined  to  receive  from 
your  fair  hands  f 

She  dropped  her  eyes,  and  a  faint  color  rose  to  her 
cheek. 

"  It  is  a  serious  matter,  my  lord.  You  remember — 
yon  cannot  have  fortjjotten  M'hat  is — what  was  destined 
to  take  phicc  next  ISovember^" 

"  Oh  !"  he  was  serious  enouii;li  now  ;  "  no,  I  have  not 
forgotten — how  could  1  i  But  Korma,  what  do  you 
mean  by  sayinu^  '  was'  to  take  place  (!" 

"  Because  1  hardly  think  it  ever  will  do  so  now. 
Lord  EarneclilTe,  I  know  3'ou  desire  to  be  free,  and  I 
release  you  once  and  forever  from  your  engagement !" 

"  Norma !"  he  half  sprung  from  his  seat  at  the  lirst 
shock.  Her  beautiful  face  was  as  white  as  monumental 
marble,  but  she  was  also  as  firm  and  composed. 

*•  Sit  down,  my  lord.  I  am  certain  this  does  not 
take  you  unawares.  1  feel  sure  that  after  this  morning 
you  must  have  had  a  presentiment  of  what  was  coming; 
and  further,  you  will  do  anything  but  grieve,  now  that 
you  have  heard  it." 

"Norma!" 

"It  Wiis  a  bond  not  of  our  own  making,  and  it 
would  gall  us  both.  ]\Iy  father  and  your  brother  were 
the  cause  of  the  step  you  took,  and  ])erhaps  there  were 
ten  thousand  reasons  why  you  should  not  at  the  time 
decline  it." 

There  was  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  her  tone,  and  the 
blood  Hushed  scarlet  for  a  moment  to  his  face. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  reproach  you,  my  lord,  but 
this  I  will  say — you  did  icrong !  You  should  not 
have  led  me  to  believe  that  you  loved  me,  when  you 
knew  in  your  heart  you  never  could  or  would  care  fur 
me  more  than  you  did  for  any  other  of  your  dear  five 
hundred  friends.  I  was  a  frilly,  romantic  girl,  I  know, 
who,  perhaps,  needed  this  lesson  to  bring  her  to  her 
senses;  but,  ni)'  lord,  I  would  rather  any  other  hand 
than  yours  had  struck  the  blow." 


I, 


%k\ 


.i.4t! 


hia' 


848 


OFF     WITH     THE     OLD    LOVE. 


Her  lip  trembled  in  8})ite  of  herself,  and  she  put 
her  hand  for  a  niouicnt  before  her  face. 

"  Nonna — Norma !"  he  cried  out,  passionately, 
"  you  wrong  me !     I  r/id  love  you  once !" 

"All!  you  did,'^  she  said,  turning  her  pale  face 
toward  him,  and  lifting  her  clear,  dark,  penetrating 
eves  to  his  face,  "'  then  you  do  so  no  longer  ?  I  knew 
it!" 

lie  averted  his  face,  and  was  silent. 

"  Mj  lord,  answer  me,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand 
earnestly  on  his  arm,  "  it  is  better  for  us  both.  Answer 
me  on  your  honor  as  a  gentleman — do  you  love  me 
now  .^" 

"  Oh,  Norma !  forgive  me  1  I  never  was  worthy 
of  your  love !" 

Iler  hand  dropped.     She  sat  as  if  turning  to  stone. 

"Ilave  I  wronged  you  beyond  reparation?  Will 
you  never  forgive  me,  Norma?" 

"  I  forgive  you,  my  lord !  I  cancel  the  bond,  and 
you  are  free !" 

"  Oh,  Norma !  fairest  and  best,  you  forgive  me,  but 
when  will  I  be  able  to  forgive  myself !" 

"Do  not  think  of  it — such  things  happen  every 
day.     It  is  only  the  way  of  the  world." 

There  was  an  untold  depth  of  bitterness  and  sorrow 
in  her  tone.  lie  did  not  dare  to  look  at  her,  but 
leaned  his  head  on  his  hand  with  a  groan. 

"  You  have  acted  as  most  would  have  done ;  and  as 
wisdom  is  only  bought  hy  experience,  I  will  be  wiser 
for  the  future.  Do  not  blame  yourself  too  severely, 
my  lord ;  it  all  does  not  rest  on  you.  Others — the 
dead  and  the  living,  have  alike  erred,  yet  I  suppose 
they  thought  they  were  acting  for  the  best.  Let  us  be 
thankful  it  is  no  worse — we  have  both  cause." 

"  Oh,  Norma !" 

"  You  have  got  a  fortune  and  a  title,  and  do  not 
need  to  make  a  inarlcKje  de  convenance  y  and  I  have 
discovered  it  all  in  time ;  so  things  are  not  so  bad,  my 
lord,  as  they  luight  be." 


OFF     WITH     TU/'J    OLD    LOVI'J. 


:A9 


ri 


lot 
ve 


"  Oh,  Norma !  What  a  villain  I  must  socm  in  your 
eyes!" 

"A  villain!  Oh,  not  at  all;  it  is  a  common  thing 
enough,  and  habit  redeems  everytiiing.  Perhaps  we 
may  both  live  to  be  thankful  things  have  ended  as 
they  have." 

"  But  your  father,  Norma  ?" 

"  My  father  loves  me  well  enough  to  sacrifice  even 
his  long-cherished  plan  at  my  wish.  1  have  only  to 
say  I  do  not  wish  this  engagement  to  be  fuliilled,  and 
he  will  leave  me  as  free  as  air." 

"Norma,  did  you  ever  love  me?"  he  asked — his 
man's  vanity,  as  she  rightly  judged,  wounded  by  her 
apparent  coldness ;  for  when  men,  the  generous  crea- 
tures !  renounce  the  woman  who  has  once  told  them 
she  loved  them,  they  like  to  think  of  her  as  piiiing 
away,  and  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  for  their  sake ;  and  Lord  Alfred  Earned iii"e, 
though  an  English  peer,  was  just  made  of  the  same 
clay  as  his  more  plebeian  brethren. 

"  My  lord,"  she  said  with  a  dark  bright  1  :sli  of  her 
eye  that  reminded  him  of  Jacquetta,  "  you  have  no 
right  to  ask  that  question  !" 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  I  fancy  there  has  been  little  love 
lost  on  your  side,  and  that  you  are  very  glad  to  be  rid 
of  me." 

"  Ah,"  she  said  with  a  half  smile,  "  did  I  not  say 
your  masculine  vanity  would  be  wounded?  Confess 
now,  it  would  be  balm  of  Gilead  for  you  to  sec  me 
shedding  floods  of  tears,  and  bemoaning  like  a  tragic 
heroine  my  hard  fate." 

"No,  i  hope  I  am  not  quite  so  selfish.  Since  we 
must  part,  I  am  glad  that  you  mind  it  so  little — 30s,  I 
am  !"  he  said,  trying  hard  to  convince  himself  he  spoke 
the  truth. 

"  Thank  you  !  And  now,  my  lord,  let  me  ask  you 
a  question — do  you  intend  remaining  for  the  present  in 
England  V 


if 


I 


M 

1 

n 

*  1 

II 


[•  w 


i 

'    1 

j 

fi    1 

1        ''i 

il  1 

a 


B 


ill 


l-i'.: 


850 


OFF     WITH     THE    OLD    LOVE. 


"  Yes,  I  rather  think  so.     I  am  tired  of  rambling." 

"  That  is  well.  I  want  to  _i:;o  abroad  and  travel  for 
a  year  or  two  on  the  Continent ;  and  if  yon  were  going, 
I  should  remain  where  I  am.  So,  when  A^rs.  Treinain 
and  Emily  leave  next  month,  I  shall  go  with  them." 

"  13ut  jou  are  sure  your  father  will  make  no  objec- 
tions to  this  overthrow  of  all  his  plans  ?" 

"  No  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  (juite  sure  he  will  object, 
but  I  think  I  can  persuade  him  to  let  me  do  as  I  ])lease. 
One  tlung  I  dread,  and  that  is,  what  the  world  will  say. 
I  am  mortiiied  to  death  to  think  papa  made  this  unfor- 
tunate eni!:a2:ement  known." 

'"It  would  be  better,  ])erhaps,  had  he  not ;  but  the 
M'orld  shall  know  how  it  is — that  1  am  a  rejected  lover. 
I  shall  then  have  the  consolation  of  being  pitied  by 
bright  eyes  and  rosy  lips  without  mnnber." 

She  smiled — but  her  smile  was  as  faint  and  «'.old  as 
a  moonbeam  on  snow,  and  she  arose,  to  signify  that 
their  interview  was  at  an  end. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  my  lord  ;  my  head  aches,  and 
I  am  unable  to  entertain  you  just  now.  As  this  is 
probably  the  last  time  we  will  see  each  other  alone,  I 
will  bid  you  good-bye,  since  to-night,  as  betrothed 
lovers,  we  part  forever." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  lie  took  it  in  both  of  his, 
and  looked  sadly  in  her  face.  It  was  strange,  now  that 
the  desire  of  his  heart  was  attained,  how  lonely  and 
grieved  he  felt. 

"  It  is  a  hard  word  to  say,  Normn,  and  harder  still 
to  think  you  and  I  must  henceforth  meet  as  strangers." 

"  You  may  think  so  to-night.  To-morrow  you  will 
rejoice." 

"  Well,  be  it  so.     Farewell,  Norma." 

"  Adieu,  my  lord." 

"  O  Norma  !  not  that.  Say  Alfred  as  you  used  to 
*lang  syne.' " 

"Good-bye,  Alfred.  Heaven  send  you  some  one 
you  can  love,  and  who  will  love  you." 


M 


1; 


'ill 


!10 


OFF    WITH     THE    OLD    LOVE. 


851 


"  A  wish,  Norma,  tliat  will  never  bo  fulfilled ;  but 
I  thank  you  all  the  same.     And  so — " 

II o  shook  hands,  and,  with  a  last  look  at  the  pale, 
fair  face,  and  tall,  graceful  figure,  he  turned,  and  left 
lier  alone. 

And  so  was  broken  the  tie  that  was  to  bind  those 
two  through  life. 

It  was  in  a  strange  state  of  mind  Lord  Earnecliile 
hurried  along  to  rejoin  his  friend.  Pleasure  and  regret, 
and  a  strange,  mortified  feeling,  were  at  war  within, 
and  when  lie  entered  the  room  wliei'e  Lord  Austrey 
lay  stretched  on  a  sofa,  solacing  himself  with  a  cigar 
and  the  last  Pinich^  he  Hung  himself  into  a  chair,  and 
looked  half  moodily  at  the  nonchalant  young  lord. 

"Well,  my  beloved  Damon,  what  news  if  What 
terrific  mystery  of  inicjuity  has  been  brought  to  light? 
In  what  state  of  mind  did  you  leave  her  peerless  high- 
ness, Princess  Norma  'C 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  on  with  the  catechism? 
Ask  a  few  more  questio'is  before  you  stop  :  What  ia 
the  chief  end  of  man  '*.  What  do  the  Scriptures  princi- 
pally teach  ?  (to  on.  why  don't  you  V 

"Pshaw!  wiuu  was  this  mysterious  interview  all 
about?  If  the  (piestion  is  impertinent,  don't  answer  it." 

"  Oh,  I  will  answer  it  readily  enough  !  It  is  some- 
thing you  will  be  veiy  glad  to  hear.  Her  peerles,s 
highness  has  rejected  the  slave,  and  you  behold  before 
you  a  dis(!arded  suitor." 

i^ord  Austrey  half  rose,  and  took  his  cigar  between 
his  linger  an<l  tlnuub. 

"Eh?     What?    Just  say  that  again,  will  you?" 

Disbrowe  laughed. 

"lam  discarded,  rejected,  refused,  jilted  !  Is  that 
plain  enough  to  suit  your  limited  capacity,  my  yoimg 
friend  i " 

Up  sprang  Lord  Austriy  to  his  'iirn^,  and  flinging 
away  iiis  cigar,  he  stretched  out  his  arm,  and  j)utting  on 
that  enrhnsiastic  expression  all  Othellos  wear,  exulting- 
ly  cried  : 


r 

|i, 

i 

i 

Hi- 


ffil 


ti 


li   ? 


'I    i 


352 


OFF     WITH     THE    OLD    LOVE. 


u  ( 


\>< 


"  '  Excellent  wcuch  !  perdition  catch  my  soul 
But  I  do  love  thee;  and  wheu  I  love  thee  uot 
Chaos  is  come  aijain !  ' 


"  Wliat's  the  rest,  Earnecliffe  ?  I  haven't  seen 
Othello  phiyed  lately.  Deuce  take  that  cigar!  I  have 
burned  my  lingers." 

"What  a  loss  you  are  to  the  stacce,  Austrev !  If 
Nature  had  not  made  you  a  British  peer,  you  would  have 
been  a  treasure  beyond  price,  to  do  the  iiiirh-tragcdy 
business.  Have  you  ever  turned  your  thoughts  to  the 
stage  as  the  meansof  earning  an  lionest  living f 

''  r>ah  !  don't  talk  nonsense !  L  want  to  hear  all  the 
l)ai*tlculars.  Are  you  really,  and  truly,  and  seriously 
jihedi" 

"  1  really,  and  truly,  and  seriously  am '" 

"  Good  !  Fate  has  turned  the  cold  shoulder  to  me 
over  since  I  was  old  enough  to  know  the  lady ;  but  I 
felt  sure  she  would  smile  at  last.  And  she  has,  you  see. 
Norma's  mine !" 

"  Don't  be  too  sure.  She  may  serve  you  as  she  has 
me." 

"No  fear.  The  litth?  Macdonald  has  better  tiiste. 
But  what  reason  did  the  damsel  giveT' 

"  None  at  all,  except  that  1  did  not  love  her — and, 
faith !  she  hit  the  right  thing  in  the  middle  just 
then.  And  so  the  engagement  was  broken,  now  and 
forever.  I  felt  about  three  inclies  higli  at  the  tim*>,  I 
can  tell  you !  " 

•'  Te  Deinn  !  What  a  slice  or  good  luck  for  George 
of  A.ustrey !     What  is  papa  going  to  say  about  it?" 

"Oh!  she  has  promised  to  make  it  all  right  there., 
She  will  bring  him  to  view  matters  in  their  proper 
light,  she  says.  !She  goes  abroad  with  the  Treniaintj 
next  month." 

"Better  and  better!  I'll  bo  an  a^Ar' ''"^  of  '  ♦em- 
bassy, or  kTU)w  lor  why.  I  never  was  y  ;>•  •!)  uuk- 
ful  before  that  my  maternal  ancestor  and  JVln  Tremain 
were  twenty-second  cousins,  or  something ;  bu*  it  just 


OFF     WITH     THE     OLD    LOVE. 


853 


If 


suits  me  exactly  now!  Won't  I  console  our  pretty 
Norma  on  the  way !  '  Make  hay  while  the  sun  shines ; ' 
there's  nothing  like  it,"  cried  Lord  George,  iu  a  hazy 
recollection  of  some  proverb. 

"  Well,  I  hope  you'll  be  successful,  of  course,"  said 
Disbrowe,  feeling  dreadfully  hypocritical ;  for  he  was 
amazed,  he  could  scarcely  tell  why,  by  his  friend's  reso- 
lution of  success. 

"  Successful !  Of  course  I  will.  Ther6  is  no  time 
when  a  girl  is  more  disposed  to  smile  on  a  new  lover 
than  after  she  has  discarded  an  old  one  ;  and,  ahem  !  a 
Lord  George  Austrey  is  not  to  be  come  across  every 
day,  I  flatter  myself.  So,  when  Norma  comes  back  to 
England,  you  may  be  ready  with  your  congratulations, 
my  Lord  of  Gcdliord  and  Earnecliife." 


i    ^ 

^       »l 


.» 


'!ol 


in 


IM, 


864 


A    SECRET    SORROW. 


CHAPTEK    XXYI. 


A   SECRET    SORROW. 


*'  I  have  a  secret  sorrow  here — 
A  grii'f  ril  ne'er  impiirt; 
It  hciives  no  sigh — it  sh(-'ds  no  tear 
But  it  consumes  the  heart." 


I. 


J"  r4 


;;*'3 


^1: 


IITJEE  dajfi  after.  Lord  EarnecHffe  went  back 
to  Dishrowu  Park,  leaving  liis  friend  in 
Eondun — a  constant  visitor  at  Tremain 
House.  AVliatever  Miss  Macdonald  felt, 
slie  had  enough  of  the  pride  of  Albion's 
stately  daughters  to  conceal ;  and  she  rode,  and  walked, 
and  drove,  and  went  to  the  theater  and  the  opera 
nightly;  and  Lord  Austrey  was  always  of  their  party. 
His  distant  relationship  to  tlic  Treniains  stood  him  in 
good  stead  now,  and  he  took  care  n<»t  to  be  too  particu- 
lar in  his  attentions,  but  to  be  (piite  as  devoted  to 
Emily  Tremain  as  to  Norma  Macdonald.  He  left  it  to 
time  to  ri[)en  their  ac(puiintance  to  a  warmer  feeling. 
And  Lord  George  acted  wisely.  A  handsome  face  and 
ligurc,  and  gallant  bearing,  seldom  fail  to  ])lease 
ladies;  and  Lord  George  could  be  agreeable,  not  to  say 
fascinating  even,  when  he  chose.  ]\liss  Macdonald 
might  have  the  bad  taste  to  be  iuvsensible  to  his  numi- 
fold  attractions  just  at  present,  while  the  wouiul  her 
Urst  love  had  received  was  still  rankling;  but  there  was 
a  good  time  coming,  and  Lord  George,  being  none  of 
your  iiery  mad-headed  lovers,  was  cpiite  content  to  wait, 
and  console  himself  with  the  nuixini:  *■'' Mleux 'caut 
tard  que  jamais,'''' 

And  at  the  end  of  the  month,  having  given  liimself 


A    SECliET    SORROW. 


855 


i 


mi- 
ler 
ivas 

of 
lit, 

ut 


an  invitation  to  join  their  party,  whicli  Emily  Tremain 
— wlio  called  liiin  "  Courun  George,"  and  considered 
liiin  dclip^htful — had  wariidy  seconded,  they  all  set  olf 
together  for  France.  Norma,  too,  was  not  displeased 
at  fhis  new  acquisition  to  their  party;  for  Lord  George 
was  an  unfailing  antidote  against  ennui  and  depression 
of  spirits,  keeping  Emily  Tremain  especially,  who  had 
a  strong  natural  taste  for  the  ludicrous,  in  lits  of 
laughter  continually. 

Just  before  starting,  Lord  George  sent  an  c])istle, 
rather  of  the  short  and  sweet  order,  to  his  friend,  to 
announce  his  success. 

"  My  Dkae  Ai-f  : — "We  are  off — to-morrow  will 
find  us  en  route  for  Paris.  The  battle  is  won  !  Norma 
is  mine,  as  certainly  as  if  she  was  signed,  sealed,  and 
delivered  !  AVhat  a  superb  beauty  it  is — ma  hclle 
re'ine !  Ah,  Earneclill'e !  you  don't  know  what  you 
have  lost !  But  one  man's  loss  is  another  man's  gain  ; 
and  so  hencdicite  ! 

"  AUSTIIEY." 

Lord  Earned iffc  read  it,  as  ho  lay  sH]^pered  and 
dressing-gowned  in  his  room,  ennuijce  nearly  to  death, 
and  an  expression,  half  angry,  half  contemptuous,  came 
over  his  face.  1L)W  little  she  must  ever  have  loved 
him  to  forget  him  so  soon! 

A  life  of  inaction,  of  stagnation,  was  little  suited  to 
the  gay,  volatile  nature  of  Alfred  Disbrowe  ;  yet  some 
pervei'se  spirit  seemed  to  possess  him  now,  and  hold 
him  in  chains  at  Disbrowe  Park.  lie  scarce  ever  went 
to  London.  lie  visited  but  little  among  the  neighbor- 
ing gentry,  and  seldom  ever  saw  any  one  at  the  hall. 
He  rarely  rode,  or  hunted,  or  quitted  home,  and  alto- 
gether became  a  sort  of  anchorite — a  hermit — a  Kobin- 
Bon  Crusoe,  shut  u])  and  fortified  in  his  "  casi.'  ."  The 
young  ladies  of  tlie  neighlxjrhood  pouted,  and  were 
terribly  mortified  to  find  the  handsome  and  wealthy 
young  peer  so  insensible  to  all  their  fasuinations,  while 


m 


*  )< 


u 


/ir 


l«    ■! 


'    -i.l 


356 


A    SECIiET    SORROW. 


the  sentimental  ones  looked  upon  him  witli  romantic 
interest,  and  fell  in  love  with  his  dark,  nielancholj 
eyes,  and  sighed  to  comfort  liiin  in  his  solitude. 

Ilavini^  nothiiii^  better  to  do,  Disbrowe  amused 
himself  with  looking  after  his  tenantry  and  improving 
his  estate ;  and  this,  with  lying  lazily  on  a  sofa,  and 
smoking  no  end  of  cigars,  constituted  his  indolent  and 
aimless  life.  lie  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  himself  some- 
times, and  his  useless  existence.  Jiut  a  spell — a  lan- 
guor of  mind  and  body  was  upon  him,  and  he  wanted 
a  motive  to  make  him  rise,  like  another  Samson,  and 
burst  his  bonds. 

So  passed  the  winter;  and  spring  and  summer  found 
him  still  loitering  at  Disbrowe  tark. 

At  odd  times,  he  received  short,  spasmodic  letters 
from  his  friend  Austrey,  to  tell  him  they  were  "doing" 
gondolas  in  Venice,  or  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  or  risking 
their  necks  up  the  great  Saint  Bernard,  or  other  colcl 
and  uncomfortable  places  in  the  Splugen  Alps.  Ac- 
cording to  his  accounts,  their  travels  were  something  in 
the  style  of  the  "  Dodd  Family  Abroad" — a  continued 
series  of  mishaps  and  misadventures,  together  with 
jealous  Austrian  governments,  rampagious  Italian  beg- 
gars, savage  and  unreasonable  couriers,  or  ferocious, 
brigandish  guides,  who  would  persist  in  not  understand- 
ing him — Lord  Geoi'ge — when  he  swore  at  them  in 
English,  and  screamed  out  his  directions  in  the  same 
language.  lie  further  went  on  to  express  the  strongest 
sort  of  contempt  for  the  whole  Continent,  vehemently 
asserted  England,  with  all  its  fogs,  was  the  only  place 
fit  for  a  rational  Christian  to  live  in.  As  for  foreign 
scenery,  he  had  a  poor  o])inion  of  it.  The  Ehine  was 
well  enough,  but  not  lit  to  hold  a  candle  to  the  Serpen- 
tine, and  as  for  Baden,  Ramsgato  was  worth  a  dozen  of 
it.  All  this  had  very  little  interest  for  Disbrowe;  but 
the  postscript  had,  where  Lord  George  wound  up  by 
informing  him  Norma  was  in  excellent  health  and 
spirits,  and  "  his  affair  "  was  progressing  as  "  well  as 
could  be  expected."    At  first,  this  used  to  invariably 


A    SECRET    SOliliOW. 


867 


gn 

m- 
lof 

jut 

k 


ly 


put  Disbrowc  in  a  fnmo ;  hut  lie  got  used  to  it  after  a 
time,  and  almost  as  indiilerent  about  Norma  as  the 
rest.  Her  father  had  joined  them,  evidently  qnite 
reconciled  to  the  broken-olf  matcli,  and,  what  was  better 
still,  great  friends  with  the  volatile  joung  lord.  It 
was  qnite  uncertain  when  they  wonld  come  back,  but 
probably  not  until  late  the  next  autumn. 

Of  his  American  friends,  since  his  arrival  in  Eng- 
land, he  had  heard  nothing.  As  time  cooled  and  toned 
down  his  feelings,  he  began  to  regret  the  hasty  manner 
in  which  he  had  left  his  uncle's  roof,  who,  harshly  as 
he  had  treated  her  whom  Disbrowe  never  named  now, 
even  in  his  own  mind,  had  been  always  kind  to  him. 
Therefore,  in  a  tit  of  penitence,  during  the  previous 
winter,  he  had  written  liim  a  long  aiul  cordial  letter, 
nrn-inij:  him  to  come  to  Enujland,  and  visit  him  at  Dis- 
browe  Park,  and  bring  Augusta  aud  little  Oi-iole  with 
hiu].  It  was  strange,  how  ardently  he  wished  to  see 
the  little,  wild,  eltisli  girl  again ;  j)artly  for  her  own 
sake,  and  the  strange,  strong  love  she  bore  him,  and 
partly  for  her  mother's  sake — that  dead  mother,  his 
lirst,  his  last,  his  only  love.  No  answer  had  come,  al- 
though the  June  roses  were  in  blossom,  and  the  letter 
had  been  written  in  Decembei",  until,  one  morning,  the 
mail  brought  him  a  brief  note,  in  the  well-known  writ- 
ing of  Mr,  Do  Vere.  It  was  dated  London,  and  in- 
formed liim  that  he,  and  Augusta,  and  Orrie  had 
arrived,  and  awaited  hiuj  there. 

Disbrowe  took  time  to  digest  his  surj^rise  and  pleas- 
ure, and  inunediately  started  for  London,  and  went 
direct  to  their  hotel.  And  then  there  was  one  of  those 
pleasant  meetings  of  old  friends,  that  gleam  like  bright 
little  Hashes  of  unalloyed  sunsliine  through  this  tangled 
life  of  ours,  more  than  conijiensating  us  for  the  sorrow 
of  parting.  ]\[r.  De  Vere  looked  half  a  dozen  years 
older  than  when  he  hail  seen  him  last,  and  had  a  dreary, 
lonely  look,  the  cause  of  which  .Dishrowe  well  under- 
stood. But  Augusta  was  still  more  changed  ;  she  had 
wasted  away  to  a  shadow,  with    white,  sunken    cheeks, 


.1*' 


^'|. 


•f 


i 


I      •! 


'    c 


868 


A     SECRET    SORROW. 


.1  .1 


i\  ' 


..  in 


and  liollow,  lustrous  eyes  loolcing  unnaturally  dark  and 
laro-c  in  lier  tliiu  and  hairi^ard  lace.  Ail  her  old  hau- 
tour  and  lofty  pride  seemed  to  have  faded  away  like  a 
dream,  and  she  stood  before  him  dejected,  spiritless, 
ghastly — like  a  spirit  from  the  grave. 

The  deo])  mourning  she  wore  contrasted  glaringly 
with  her  pallid  face  and  blue-veined,  transparent  hands, 
and  Disbrowe  was  inexpressibly  shocked  and  grieved 
as  he  beheld  her. 

And  Orrie — ho  scarcely  recognized  her  in  the  richly- 
attired,  half-timid  little  miss,  who  shrank  back  and  eyed 
him  askance  with  a  glance  half  shv,  half  laughing,  that 
reminded  him  with  a  thrill  and  a  shock  of  Jacquetta. 
A  year — most  of  it  spent  in  the  artiiicial  atmosphere  of 
a  fashionable  boarding-school — had  robbed  little  Orrie 
of  most  of  her  eldrich  boldness  and  brightness;  but 
still  it  broke  out  litfully  at  times.  She  had  lost,  partly, 
her  wild,  eliish,  precocious  look,  too  ;  and  with  her- 
shining,  coal-black  hair  smoothly  braided,  and  her 
pretty  dress  of  rich,  black  silk,  she  was  (piite  another 
being  from  the  wild  little  kelpie  in  boy's  clothes  who 
had  once  stabled  his  horse.  They  all  seemed  to  have 
changed ;  and  Disbrowe  half  sighed  as  he  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  her,  and  inwardly  wondered  if  he 
had  changed,  too. 

"And  Frank,"  he  said,  "how  is  he?" 

"  Frank  is  rpiite  well,"  s?;id  A[r.  Do  Vere.  "  I  got 
him  a  midshipman's  commission  last  winter,  and  he  has 
gone  oft'  like  i  second  Jack  to  seek  his  fortune.  We 
found  Fontclle  terribly  dull,  and  your  kind  invitation 
came  at  a  most  opportune  moment.  Change  of  climate 
may  do  something  for  Augusta,  whose  health  is  failing 
rapidly." 

"  1  noticed  Miss  De  Vere  was  not  looking  w-ell," 
said  Disbrowe,  lowering  his  voice  that  she  might  not 
hear.  ''  She  is  greatly  changed  since  I  saw  her  last. 
AVhat  is  the  matter  V 

"  That  is  a  question  I  cannot  answer,"  replied  her 
father,  with  a  sigh.     "  She  has  no  bodily  ailment,  the 


A     SECRET    SORROW. 


859 


got 
has 
iWe 
:ion 
liate 
liner 

111," 

Inot 
list. 

ber 

the 


doctors  say ;  but  somethinc:  is  evidently  preying  on  her 
mind,  undenninini^  both  Hfo  and  hap])iness.  In  fact, 
she  has  never  been  the  same  since  tliat  visit  of  old 
Grizzle  Ilowlet's,  whatever  slie  told  her.  Since  that 
time  she  has  pined  j^id  faded  away  ;  and  if  I  believed 
in  the  Evil  Eye,  I  should  say  my  poor  Augusta  was 
under  its  inliuence." 

"  Have  you  uever  tried  to  discover  what  this  strange 
secret  is  ?" 

"  Repeatedly  ;  but  in  vain.  Augusta  only  wrings 
her  hands,  and  cries  for  me  to  leave  her,  until  I  have 
no  longer  the  heart  to  resist.     O  Alfretl !  my  boy,  it 

foes  to  my  heart  to  see  her  suffering  like  this,"  said 
£r.  De  Vere,  with  tilling  eyes. 

Disbrowe  pressed  his  hand  in  silent  sympathy. 

"Do  you  think  she  would  tell  you,  Alfred  ?  She 
liked  you,  and  she  might.  Do  you  really  think  she 
would  ^"  he  said  eagerly. 

"  I  fear  not,  sir.  When  she  refused  to  tell  you,  it 
is  not  likely  she  would  make  me  her  confidant — a  com- 
parative stranger." 

"  1  am  sorry !  I  am  sorry !  If  she  wonld  only 
speak  ?nd  tell,  it  might  save  her  life.  My  poor  Au- 
gusta ! — my  poor,  poor  girl !" 

"Does  Grizzle  llowlet  still  reside  at  the  old  inn f ' 
asked  Disbrowe,  after  a  pause,  to  divert  his  mind  from 
the  subject. 

"  Yes,  the  old  limb  of  Satan!  O  Alfred!  that  a 
wretched  old  hag  like  that  should  have  caused  us  all  so 
much  miser}^ !" 

"Her  day  of  retribution  will  come  ;  be  assured  of 
that,  sir !"  said  Disbrowe,  almost  sternly.  "And  her 
honfrere^  Captain  Tempest,  what  has  become  of  him^" 

"Gone  olf  in  the  '  Fly-by->iiglit '  on  one  of  his 
dark,  deviTs  (jruises  of  crime,  lie  went  shortly  after 
you  left.  I>y  the  way,  Alfred,  can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing of  that  young  Spanish  lad,  Jacinto  i'  We  never 
could  hear  anything  about  him  after  that  ^aity." 

"  Yes,"  said  Disbrowe,  over  whose  handsome  face 


,/**  -.'"^ 


860 


A     SECRET    SORROW. 


a  dark  shadow  fell — the  memory  of  that  sad  day.  "  Yes, 
he  came  with  me  to  London  ;  and,  uncle,  he  was  treated 
ungenerously.     That  boy  was  guiltless  of  all  wiong." 

"I  know  it — I  know  it!"  groaned  Mr.  De  Vere. 
"  Old  Grizzle,  to  taunt,  to  madden  me,  I  believe,  came 
with  that  villain  Tempest  to  Fontelle,  one  day,  and 
derisively  told  me  all  she  had  said  about  Jaequetta  was 
false  ;  all  save  in  one  particular — her  being  the  daughter 
of  this  reckless  freebooter.  Jaequetta  knew  nothing  of 
her  father,  nor  of  her  mother,  except  that  she  was  one 
of  the  frail  and  erring  of  her  sex ;  and  that  never  in 
the  slii^htest  action  had  her  marrias^c  vows  been 
broken  ;  that  she  knew  nothing  of  Orrie  save  her 
birth,  and  that,  O  Alfred !  that  she  refused  you,  lov- 
ing you  all  the  while.  My  poor  boy  !  it  was  a  sad  day 
for  you  both  when  you  met." 

l)isbrowe  sat  with  averted  head,  his  eyes  shaded 
by  his  hand,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  And  my  poor,  poor,  wronged  Jaequetta !  My 
high-spirited,  broken-hearted  girl !  O  Alfred !  I  can 
never  forgive  myself  for  the  great  wrong  1  have  done 
her,"  groaned  Mr.  De  Vere. 

"  She  was  cruelly  wTonged,  sir ;  but  you  acted 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  were  not  so  much  to  blame. 
Let  the  dead  rest ;  I  had  rather  not  speak  of  lier." 

"Her  loss,  too,  has  preyed  on  the  mind  of  Augus- 
ta," said  Mr.  De  Vere,  recurring  to  the  former  subject; 
"  and,  combined  with  the  death  of  her  brother,  has  in- 
creased the  depression  of  her  spirits,  and  left  her  as  you 
see.  Ah !  Alfred,  I  am  not  very  happy  in  my 
children !" 

"  Her  brother  V  said  Disbrowe,  with  a  start.  "  Do 
you  mean — " 

"  My  unhappy  idiot  son  ?  Yes,  he  is  gone,"  said 
Mr.  De  Vere,  in  a  husky  voice. 

Disbrowe  turned  away  in  silence.  "  Had  Jaequetta 
been  alive !"  was  his  thought ;  and  a  pang  more  bitter 
than  he  ever  thought  ho  could  have  felt  for  her  again, 
pierced  his  heart. 


)> 


Vere. 


it  was  arranmxi  fi,,,.  ., 

don  of  doii.:.,/*"","^"'  l''^'«'-nn  A.nbh  V  r 

Md  pride.    '     '"■'" ^'"'-'^ ^'J-^'* «erc  brigh    ,ri  i', w^''"'" 
''Jajjj    J   ,  fe'''' ^^itn  pleasure 

oyes  fimn./  'wt,?''!  ^"S'"'"'  •"'  cried  Mr  Do  V        , 
f/X  1     1       i^   ^^iin  tears      "  t#-    i  •  -''G  Vci'o   ])i^ 

avenues,  and  tree^•':L,'"''^'•'''■^'    ami    flowers     ,    7 

tiio  I     i      '"''^^  "^  ^^'0.0  pref  v  lift]       '''   ^^'^'   ^"'^^v-' 
,.'^  '''<^'«  away  ovor  fi.      J  '^''.r  ^'ttJo  iioiises  •  mmJ    " 

''"lo  el,  „.cl,,  wi        ,i''"'T''  ""'I  0'',  look-  ,;«,:','"•' 
dowa!      Oil      /,  »)jltMic|;d   red  ■i,„l   ,    iV       ''"'"' 

hands.  '   ^""''  ""••«•'"    Ci-ied    Orr/o    If'      •"'  "''"- 

''OJi,  ve^  f_i.'^-  ,^'^"  yon  nde  ''     ^      "^"^  '^^'^^^ 
,        '-^     •     n^'^t-i-ate.     ('m,v  / 
^<^  .you  say;  Uut  ^,w+'       •    ^' ^''''I'tlpa ?" 


16 


no  re- 


li'i 


;     ^1 


!d 


•1:1 


in 


ij 


•(  . 


<l„ 


} 


;i' 


.11 


r' 


l:Ci: 


f  i;*-' 


,i^il 


If* 


f  irf 


i  .irt 


I  I 


111!  I 


303 


A    SECliET    SOIiltOW. 


"  Oil,  I  know !"  snid  Oriie,  Fliniprginr^  her  shoulders. 
"Miss  Smiih  used  to  give  u.s  thiit  for  a  copy ;  bnt  I 
can.  ride,  though,  c'ver  so  well.     IVank  learned  me." 

''Tnu^lit  vou,"  amended  jMr.  l)e  Vere. 

"Oh,  bolher!  I  iiiii  so  glad  yoii  have  got  a  pony 
for  me,  Oousin  Alfred  !  May  1  eallyou  Cuu.->in  Alfred, 
as  Fraidv  used  to  do!!"' 

"Of  course — what  else  would  you  call  me?" 

"  An<l  ma}-^  I  ride  out  to-morrow  morning  T' 

"You  will  he  tired  to-morrow  morning,  after  your 
journey — won't  you  C 

"Oh,  la! — no,"  said  Orrie,  with  one  of  her  shrill 
laughs  at  the  idea  of  such  a  thing,  "I'm  never  tired. 
Oh,  Vvhat  a  pretty  house  it  is,  any  way ! — twice  as  nice 
as  Fontelle." 

"And  yet  you  used  to  think  Fontelle  a  very  beauti- 
ful place,  Orrie." 

"Oh,  I  know!  that  was  when  I  lived  with  old 
Grizzle — the  nasty  old  thing  ! — and  it  was  a  great  deal 
nicer  than  her  house,  but  not  near  so  nice  as  this.  Oh, 
1  should  love  to  live  here  forever!" 

"Unha])pily,  people  don't  live  forever  in  England, 
ma  cliire  jille  y  but  you  shall  stay  as  long  as  I  can  keep 
you.     You  will  miss  Frank — will  you  not?" 

"  1  es,  some — we  used  to  quarrel  so,  you  know, 
until  grandpa  sent  me  to  school  in — oh,  just  the 
horridest  place  in  all  the  world !  1  didn't  like  it  at 
alL  I'd  a  great  deal  rather  grandpa  had  let  me  been  a 
sailor,  and  went  to  sea  M'ith  Frank  in — oh,  such  a  lovely 
great  big  ship,  and  such  a  sight  of  ropes!  And  Frank 
looked  so  splendid  in  his  nice  jacket,  with  all  the 
bright  buttons,  and  his  cap  with  gold  on  it.  Oh,  he 
looked  lovely !"  cried  Orrie,  enthusiastically,  laying 
great  emphasis  on  her  notes  of  admiration. 

"Indeed!"  lauii;hed  Disbrowe.  "I  should  have 
liked  to  have  seen  him.  And  you  used  to  quarrel 
when  you  were  both  at  Fontelle  i'' 

"  Oh,  yes !  Frank  used  to  get  so  ugly  sometimes — it 
was  all  his  fault,  you  know — and  we  used  to  have  such 


A     SECRET    tiOBUOW. 


868 


iiying 


have 
liarrel 

iS — it 
such 


a  time  !  We  made  it  all  up,  tliough,  you  know,  before 
he  left ;  and  Frank  says  we  will  be  married  as  soon  as 
ever  he  conies  back." 

"  Ah  !  that  will  he  pleasant — won't  it  ?  When  is  he 
to  conic  back  V 

"  In  two  or  three  years.  That  is  a  good  long  time, 
ain't  it  ? — hut  I  don't  mind,  so  long  as  I've  got  a  pony. 
O  Cousin  Alfred  !  how  nice  yon  are  !'' 

"  Uncommonly  so  !  The  Admirable  Crichtou  was 
nothing  to  me  !  Ihit  here  we  are  at  the  house  ;  and 
now,  mademoiselle,  we  will  see  whether  the  inside  suits 
you  as  M'cll  as  the  outside." 

The  servants,  who  had  been  apprised  of  their  lord's 
approach,  were  drawn  u])  in  the  hall  to  receive  him  as 
he  entered  with  Augusta  on  his  arm  ;  and  Orrie  looked 
about  her,  quite  awe-struck  by  their  number  and  the 
splendor  around  licr. 

"Ain't  this  Itjvely,  grandpa  T'  she  said,  in  a 
whisper,  giving  him  a  jnill. 

"  Very  lino,  kitten — a  grand  old  manor." 

"  And  such  a  lot  of  servants  !     Oh,  my  !" 

"Hush!  they  r\  ill  hear  you.  So  you  like  it  better 
than  FunteHe?" 

"  I  guess  I  do!  I  wish  you  would  live  here  all  the 
time,  and  not  go  back  to  h  ontelle." 

"  But  it's  not  my  house,  monkey,  and  so  I  can't.  It 
is  Lord  Earned ilfe's.  you  know." 

"  Well — but  he  would  let  you  stay,  I  guess.  I 
mean  to  ask  him,  anyway." 

"But  that  is  not  pulite.  reoi)le  sliould  not  invite 
themselves.     You  must  wait  until  he  asks  you." 

Orrie  gave  a,  little  impatient  shrug. 

"It's such  a  bother  being  polite,  and  I  don't  see  any 
good  in  it,  either.  See  here,  grandi)a — ('ousin  Alfred 
is  not  married,  is  he  ^" 

"Not  as  1  am  aware  of,  my  little  nettle — why '^" 

"  lie  ain't  going  to  be,  is  he  C 

"Well,  I  can't  say,  positively — you  had  better  ask 


\  \ 


i 


I'  k 


'I 


864 


.1     SECRET    SOIUIOW. 


t 


•  i      t, 


r '  f 


m 


It.    .  ;' 


himself  that.  Have  you  any  iiitoiitions  of  proposing  to 
him  r 

'-'  X(>;  you  know  I  haven't.  Didn't  f  tell  you  I  was 
goiii'j;  to  waii,  for  Franks*'  said  the  young  lady,  with 
dii^uity.  "  Hut  [  thouii;ht  he  niip^ht  marry  (.histy,  and 
then  wc  could  all  live  here — couldn't  we  C 

"  Frank  and  all,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  De  Vere, 
laupfhing.  "A  rare  plan,  hornet,  hut  I  don't  know 
M'liat  (Viusin  Alfred  and  (lusty  would  say  about  it.  Voa 
had  bettm-  ask  them — hadn't  you  C 

"■  I'm  au^uin;^  to,"  said  (Jrrie,  a.s  she  turned  to  follow 
a  spruce  cliambermaid  to  her  room  to  l:)o  dressed  for 
dinner. 

The  suuu^estion  of  Dishrowe's  marriairo  recalled 
Bomethin:*:  Mr.  I)e  Vere  had  nartiallv  for*j'otten — that 
he  was  to  liave  !)een  married  the  pri^vious  year.  It 
was  a  delicate  subject,  but  he  deteruiined  to  ask  Dis- 
browe  the  nasou,  and  an  (H)porrunity  occurred  when 
they  were  left  alone  to  chat  over  the  *'  walnuts  and 
the  wine  '"  after  dinner. 

"  My  dear  Alfred,  I  expected  to  lind  you  a  happy 
Jienedict  by  this  time,"  he  said,  carelessly.  "  llow 
comes  it  that  you  ai'o  suilcrinij;'  sinu;-l(j  bli^soduess  still  V 

''The  match  was  broken  olf,"  said  DIsbrowe,  look- 
ing intently  at  the  orange  he  was  peeling. 

'•AiiT'  said  u\[r.  l)e  Vere,  in(juiriiigly. 

''  Yes,  by  the  lady's  desire.  She  did  not  fancy  rat- 
ifying a  contract  slu;  had  no  hand  in  making  !  and  so 
she  is  Miss  Norma  .\racdonald  still." 

'•  J3ut  1  thouglit  you  said  she  loved  you  i" 

"  Well,  I  may  have  been  mistaken — £  don't  pretend 
to  be  infallible  ;  and,  even  if  she  did,  young  ladies 
easily  get  over  such  things.  Try  th;it  sherry,  mu-le — 
it  ought  to  be  good,  if  age  can  mak(;  it  so." 

"  Voiis  ri/h:  ill,  t'oi  r'  said  Mr.  I  )e  Vere,  with  a 
smile.  "  What  a  Sybarite  you  are,  Alfred,  in  ihi.> 
hixurious  home  of  ycjiirs  !" 

"  Yes;  as  far  as  the  good  things  of  this  world  go,  1 
believe  I  have  got  my  shart! ,  but  is  there  any  one  liv- 


ii- r 


l(»\V 

ook- 


,l(lu.'S 
U'io  — 

,vith  a 


ij;<),  i 


liv- 


.1    sECiu:r  .BORROW. 


in_i^,  my  dear  uncle,  wlio  lius  not  still  sotijo  wish  unful- 
lilled — some  dreary  //^  never  t(»  be  realized." 
"  And  yonns  is— 


5? 


"  Whore  I  left  my  heart — in  the  tomh  of  Jac- 
qnetta.''  he  said,  tiadly. 

"StroHii;  lo\e — stronp^  and  true!  Oli,  th;i!  Jdc- 
quetta  had  lived  to  be  your  Avifc- '/" 

•"  Too  late  !  it  is  sometMn;'  J  cannot  thinik  of  caltnlv, 
even  to  this  day.  llow  little  I  drc^ame<],  wbon  i  first 
saw  1^'ontelle,  that  my  dream,  my  hope,  my  4ay-.>^tar, 
was  to  rise  within  its  walU.  llow  little  J  drt'amed, 
when  I  first  mei  her,  of  all  she  vvas  destin^^i  to  bo  to 
me !"' 

There  was  a  long  j)anse,  bi'okcn  first  by  Di4)rowe, 
wlio  never  would  dwell  loni,^  on  that  subject,  an«'t  now 
turned  the  conversation  on  Kome  other  to])ic.  And  Mr. 
Dc  Vere  noticed  that  he  never  again  spoke  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

For  a  brief  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  change  of  scene 
and  air  had  really  been  of  service  :;'  Augusta,  and  that 
both  health  and  s[)irits  were  improving;  but  it  was 
only  a  momentary  i-allyiug,  that  soon  passed  away,  and 
left  her  spiritless  and  drooping  as  b(;i"ore.  Her  [o.-mer 
dark  despair,  and  wild  bursts  ol'  anguish  atul  remo/se, 
alike  seemed  to  have  passed  away,  and  a  dead,  inane 
listlessness — a  dull,  lifeless  stupor — a  blank,  lio])eless 
calm,  terriljle  to  see,  had  taken  their  place.  For  hours 
she  would  sit  with  folded  hands,  white,  e(jld,  and  voice- 
less, her  large,  dark  eyes  ti.xed  on  the  floor;  a  living 
automaton,  a  breathing  statue,  a  moving  fiinu'e  of  ice. 
Mr.  Do  Vere  was  in  despair;  no  elTort  could  rouse  Ikm- 
from  her  lethargy;  no  amusement  could  win  a  smile 
from  her  ;  no  excitement  could  arouse  interest — luAli- 
ing  couM  awake  her  from  her  trance. 

].)isbrowe  wa^-i  puzzled  and  interested,  his  curiosity 
was  excited,  and  that,  n)ingled  v»'ith  a  feeling  of  jiity, 
made  him  halt'  determined  to  ask  the  reason  of  this 
mysterious  a'rief.  Jle  felt  tliat  this  very  secrecy  itself 
was  augmenting  tiie  original  source   of   her   trouble, 


,li: 


3G0 


A     SECJIKT    SOllROW. 


' 


m\ 


Vi  -f. 


\m  ' 


li'i 


%^ 


wliatcvor  it  niii^lit  be  ;  and  that,  once  she  took  soinoono 
iiito  lier  eoiilideiic'O,  this  inorl)i(l  siiikiiiii;,  iVoiii  sheer 
lack  of  sympathy,  would  vanish  h"ko  niorniiiL(  mists  he- 
fore  tlie  sun.  As  ji  nettle,  which  shar])lv  stiiin-.s  if 
dainiily  toiu'hcd,  is  harmless  if  holdly  grasped,  so  iii- 
v.ai'd  ^rief,  if  nursed  in  silence,  festers  and  rankles, 
while,  dauntlessly  confronted,  it  hides  its  diminished 
head  and  sinks  comparatively  into  nothini;'. 

One  still,  serene  moonlight  ni^-ht,  leavinpi;  jVEr.  De 
Vere  dozini:^  over  the  Thnct^^  and  Ori'ie  amusinii;  her- 
Bclf  with  her  honne  and  a  hook  of  pi"int-i,  Dishrowe 
strolled  idly  out,  attra<'t(Ml  hy  the  £i:;entle  hush  of  the 
charmed  hour.  Saunterinu;  down  IIk;  lon^i;-,  shaded, 
laurel  walk,  he  suddetdy  stopped  in  astonishment  at  ho- 
holdiniij  Auij^usta,  hall-sittinir,  half-lyin/j;  on  a  bench, 
her  louL'  hair,  unbound  and  soaked  with  tiie  niicht-dew, 
6trcai;>in,ii:  aromid  her  ;  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands, 
her  whole  attitude  so  full  of  woe,  so  crushed,  so  heart- 
broki'U,  that  a  thrill  of  terror  and  pity  shot  through  the 
young  earl's  heart. 

In  her  passionate  <th<iniht)i  she  lieard  not  his  ap- 
proaching footsteps,  and  it  was  only  when  he  gently 
tried  to  remove  her  hands  that  she  uttered  a  startled 
cry  and  sjirang  up,  so  whites  so  wild,  so  terrilied,  such 
a  shadow^  of  her  former  self,  that  he  had  no  words  to 
express  his  deep  pity. 

"Augusta,  my  dearest  cousin,  what  is  this'^  Do_you 
not  know  the  danger  of  sitting  out  here  in  the  uight- 
dcw^' 

She  did  not  reply.  She  flung  herself  back  in  her 
seat,  and  hid  her  face  once  more  in  her  hands  with  a 
groan. 

'•  Augusta,  will  vou  not  tell  nic  what  this  means? 
Can  I  not  help  you  in  any  way  {  Will  you  not  trust 
your  cousin  C 

"I  dare  not!  I  <lare  not  tell  you!  You  would 
shrink  from  me  in  horror  il'  I  did/' 

"  Not  80,  Augusta.  Are  you  not  my  cousin — al- 
most my  sister  ?     Dear  Augusta,  whatever  this  myeteri- 


you 
ight- 


hcr 
itli  a 


ould 


A    SECRET    SORROW. 


3()7 


ons  BGcrct  may  be,  you  may  safely  (rust  me.  And  who 
knows  l)ut  it  may  be  in  my  power  to  aid  you." 

"'  Xo,  no.  Vou  cauTiot — you  cannot !  It  is  beyond 
mortal  ai  1 1"*  she  desijairiiii^Hy  Wiiik'<|, 

*•  AnL:;ust:i,  it  is  killinL;  you — this  secrecy.  Why 
not  tell  your  father — surely  you  can  trust  him  C 

"  (.)li !  not  to  liim  !  not  to  him  !  I  would  sooner 
tell  vou  a  thousand  times.  O  Lord  Earneelifie!  if  you 
only  knew. 

'*  Will  you  not  tell  me,  Auu^usta  ?  Dear  Augusta, 
it  is  some  power  this  old  wrelch,  wlio  luis  already 
wroui^ht  .so  much  evil  to   us    all,  holds  over  you — is  it 

not  r 

She  alone  and  one  otlier  know." 


(( 


Oh 


yes,  yes ' 


"It  is  some  imni::inaiw  power,  then — some  elever 
scheme  slie  has  concocted,  and  which  will  prove  to  be 
nothiui^  but  empty  threats  and  vapor.  Courage,  Au- 
gusta !  spci'k  out  imd  tell  wliat  it  is,  and  you  will  iind 
it  nothing  but  thin  air.  Do  not  think,  Augusta,  thai  I 
urge  yuu  to  tvll  llii'ough  impertincMit  curiosity  ;  l)ut  foi 
your  own  peace  of  mind  you  ought  to  Ujake  a  conlidant 
of  some  one.  You  do  not  know  how  evils  shriidc  and 
cower  when  boldlv  looked  in  the  face,  and  how  tliey 
grow  into  huge  misshapen  monsters  when  dreaded 
Come,  Ar.gusta,  exorcise  this  demon  that  haunts  you 
and  be  yonrseli"  once  more." 

His  bold,  frank  toiu>,  his  easy  confidence,  his 
spirited,  fearless  voice,  acted  ])Owerfully  upon  her.  She 
lifted  her  eyes  to  the  bold,  resoluto,  handsome  young 
face,  and  with  a  sudden  impulse  she  said: 

"I  will  tell  you!  1  will!  Let  the  result  be  what 
it  mav,  you  shall  know  all,  and  learn  if  1  have  not  cause 
eiiough  for  misery.  O  Alfred!  there  never, never  was 
guilt  equal  to  mine  !" 

"  That  remrins  to  be  seen.  I  Ijavc  seen  more  of 
guilt  than  you  have,  1  fancy,  and  will  jndge  presendy. 
(.'ome,  Augusta,  where  is  the  pride  and  courage  of  your 
Do  Vere  blood  now  i  Courage !  I  proiniso  you  not 
to  faint." 


'  il: 


4f 


I':, 

1:! 


a 


i'jt 


■! 


it 


fl 


P   i  L  ; 

ii 

mij- 

!:*« 

mi-  i 

.     M*r* 

Hi 

1!'' 

1  -i' 


I 


3G8 


2l    SECRET    SORROW. 


Tic  seated  himself  beside  lier,  and  took  both  her 
hands  in  his,  and  looked  brightly  in  her  face. 

"JS'ow,  Auii;usta." 

"  O  Alfred^  how  shall  1  tell  you  ?  How  shall  I  tell 
you  my  dark,  guilty  story.  Yes,  guilt!  Do  not  start 
— though  Heaven  knows  is  was  unintentionally  com- 
mitted. Listen.  Perhaps  you  did  not  know  I  had  two 
brothers." 

"No,  I  did  not  know.     1  never  heard  of  but  one." 

"  Poor  Aubrey  !  he  is  at  rest.  Well,  I  had  another 
brother  younger  than  Aubrey,  and  some  four  or  five 
years  older  than  me,  of  whom  I  remember  nothing  as  a 
child,  for  1  was  but  three  months  old  when  he  was 
lost." 

*'  Lost  ?" 

"  Yes.  O  Alfred,  you  do  not  know  how  dark  a 
doom  has  ever  rested  on  all  of  our  ill-fated  family,  and 
on  me  and  him  darkest  of  all." 

"  But  how  was  lie  lost,  Augusta  ?     Did  he  die  ?" 

*'  No  ;  he  was  stolen.  There  were  marauding  parties 
of  hostile  Indians  about  at  the  time,  and  it  was  no  new 
thing  for  them  to  take  children  and  Avomen  prisoners, 
who  were  sometimes  killed,  sometimes  ransomed,  und 
Bometimes  kci)t  by  the  tribe." 

"And  which  was  your  brother's  fate?" 

"  Neither.  They  strove  in  vain  to  gain  any  intel- 
ligence of  him;  they  final ly  gave  him  up  in  despair; 
they  thought  he  was  dead.  Would  to  God  he  hud 
been !" 

"  Augusta ! "  cried  Disbrowe,  shocked. 

She  looked  up  with  a  hard,  dark,  despairing  face. 

"  Is  there  no  fate  worse  than  death  ?  The  dead  are 
at  rest;  but  there  is  a  living  death  of  guilt,  and  anguish, 
and  remorse,  that  never  knows  rest.  Tiie  latter  was 
reserved  for  his  fate  and  mine." 

"  Go  on,  Augusta." 

*'  You  know,  very  likely,  that  these  Indians  were  in 
league  with  the  tories,  and  that  the  whites  were  very 
often  worse  than  the  rod  men.     Among  those  demons 


I'll 


A    SECRET    SORROW. 


369 


j> 


nr; 
liid 


are 

lisli, 
Lvas 


111 
iry 
)ns 


in  Imman  form  was  the  brother  of  Grizzle  Ilowlet — 
Till,  they  call  him — a  morose  and  l)lo()d-thlnsty  human 
ti^or,  who  hated  pa|)a  for  some  real  or  fancied  wroni:; 
he  had  once  done  iiim.  Jle  was  at  the  Indian  viilaije 
when  my  little  brother,  Wilton,  was  brought  there  with 
other  prisoners,  and  knew  him  instantly.  How  he  ex- 
ulted when  he  saw  him  !  It  was  a  prospect  of  revenge 
jjeyond  ])rice  to  him.  Most  of  the  other  ju'ihoners  were 
slaughtered  in  cold  blood;  but  he  ordered  them  not  to 
hu^^  a  hair  of  Wilton's  head  ;  and,  having  some  author- 
ity among  them,  he  was  obe^'ed.  Wilton  was  adopted 
by  the  chief  of  the  tribe,  and  brought  up  in  all  respects 
as  if  he  had  been  his  son  ;  taught  to  hunt,  and  shoot, 
and  live  the  life  of  an  Indian  boy,  and  treated  as  the 
son  of  ;in  Indian  chief.  Old  Till's  object  was  to  keep 
him  there  until  he  had  grown  uj),  and  then  present  the 
half-savage  young  Indian  to  my  father  as  his  longdost 
son." 

"  Well  ? " 

"  He  did  not  su  "ceed — would  to  God  he  had  !  even 
that  would  have  been  better  than  the  fate  that  awaited 
him.  Wilton,  child  as  he  was  when  abducted,  had  a 
vague  remiiubrance  still  of  the  far-diil'erent  life  he  had 
left;  and  thougii  he  lived  the  life  of  an  Indian,  he  had 
not  an  Indian  heart.  The  desire  of  escape  was  with 
him  viighr  and  day,  but  he  was  carefully  watched  and 

fuarded,  and  for  a  long  time  no  oj)portunity  occurred, 
n  i'act,  he  was  ten  years  old  before  he  was  able  to 
make  his  esi*ape  from  the  tribe." 
"He  did  escape,  then?" 

"  Yes — after  perils  and  hardships  innumerable,  he 
reached  the  nearest  town,  ignorant  of  his  name,  birth- 
place, and  family ;  for  the  Indians  had  given  him  a 
new  name,  and  a  child  of  live  soon  forgets.  His  story 
made  liim  frit'uds,  though,  and  one  of  them  obtained 
him  a  situation  as  cabin-boy  on  board  a  man-of-war." 

"  Of  course,  none  of  your  family  knew  all  this  at 
the  timer' 

"  No,  they  knew  notliing  of   him — nor  doGB   my 

10* 


II 


■"1 


rf 

o 


^ 


'i 


m 


t\ 


Hi' 

i 


"I  if. 


'  u 


>,,: 


870 


A     SECRET    SORROW. 


fiithcr  till  tliis  day:  nil  tliis  I  have  learned  of  late. 
Well,  he  grew  up  a  sailor;  rose  to  the  rank  of  lieuten- 
ant in  one  of  the  United  States  ships-of-war,  under  the 
name  of  his  first  friend,  which  he  had  adopted — that  of 
Scott." 

•'Weir!;"  said  Disbrowe,  as  she  made  a  long  pause. 

•'Oh!  how  shall  I  go  on  with  the  rest — how  shall  I 
speak  of  myself  and  my  deed  of  madness.  O  Alfred! 
I  cannot  tell  3'ou !"  she  wildly  cried. 

"  Go  on,  Augusta,  and  fear  not !  I  think  I  suspect 
what  is  to  come." 

"  You  do  ?  what  do  you  suspect  ?" 

"That  you  somehow  met  this  unknown  brother  of 
youi-s,  and — " 

*'  Well  'P  she  whispered,  hoarsely. 

"And  fell  in  love  with  him!" 

"Oh!  worse — worse — worse!  A  thousand- fold 
worse!     O  Cousin  Alfred,  I — I — " 

"  Augusta !" 

"  O  Alf)  ..-d  !  I  married  him  r 

AVith  a  wild,  shivering  cry,  she  sank  down,  and  lay 
white  and  shuddering,  with  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Disbrow  started,  and  an  ex})ression  of  horror  came  for 
a  moment  to  his  face  ;  the  next,  he  raised  her  up,  and 
said,  gently  and  tenderly  : 

•"  Augusta,  tell  me  how  it   was.     Augusta,  dearest. 


Look 


up, 


and    tell 


do   not   tremble  so   dreadiuUy 
me  all. 

She  took  lier  white  hands  from  her  pallid,  tortured 
face,  and  spoke  in  a  voice  scarce  above  a  whisper. 

"  1  was  visiting  a  friend,  and  went  with  lier  to  a 
ball  on  board  his  ship;  1  nwX  him  there — we  loved 
each  other,  and — O  my  Ood  !  you  know  the  rest!" 

"  You  married  him  secretly  f 

"Yes,  I  knew  my  father  never  would  consent,  on 
account  of  his  poverty  and  low  birth,  and,  most  of  all, 
for  his  being  a  rel)el  against  the  king,  lie  loved  me 
passionately,  and  1 — I — was  mad,  delirious,  and  cou- 


rt H 1'  j; 


t  'I 


A     SECRET    SORROW 


371 


fold 


to  a 
ovucl 


t,  oil 
)f  nil, 
:d  nie 
con- 


sented to  a  private  niarriage.     O  Alfred — Alfred  !  was 
there  ever  ii-uilt  like  to  mine?" 

"  My  dear  Augusta — my  j)0()r  Augusta,  you  are  not 
guilty — you  did  not  know.     Go  on,  let  me  hear  all."' 

"  I  thought  our  marriage  was  unknown  ;  hut  it  wjis 
not :  a  son  of  Grizzle  Ilowlet — oh  !  why  was  all  belong- 
ing to  that  wretched  woman  destined  to  he  our  evil 
destiny  through  hfe  ! — was  in  the  church,  and  saw  us, 
and  heard  our  names.  The  hour  of  our  marriage  we 
parted,  he  to  return  to  sea,  and  I  to  go  to  Fontelle.  Two 
months  after,  you  came,  and  but  for  that  1  might  still 
be  iicnorant  of  my  dreadful  crime." 

"  But  for  me !"  exclaimed  Disbrowc  in  amaze,, 
"  why,  Augusta  V 

"  Even  so.  You  remember  your  narrow  escape 
from  being  murdered,  and  iiow,  to  save  herself,  it 
brought  (rrizzle  next  day  to  the  hall  V 

''Yes— yes  I" 

"To:^ave  herself,  she  told  me  what  I  have  just  told 
you,  that  I  had  wedded  my  own  brother;  and  she 
threatened  to  make  my  guilt  |)ublic,  if  1  did  not  save 
her  from  the  effects  of  my  facher's  anger.  The  shock 
almost  killed  nie.  You  have  not  forgotten  that  dreadful 
morning,  nor  how  1  })lcaded  for  (ii'izzle  .on  my  recov- 
ery, anil  obtained  her  freedom.  (J  Alfi'cd,  1  would 
sooner  have  been  burned  at  the  stake  than  that  my 
father  should  ever  know." 

"  Ihit,  my  dear  Augusta,  you  are  insane  to  l)elieve 
a  tale  trumped  up  for  the  occasion  by  such  a  woman  as 
this  villainous  old  Grizzle  Ilowlet.  It  is  in  all  proba- 
bility false,  every  wt>rd  of  it." 

"  No— no !  there  is  no  such  hope  for  me  ;  her  brother 
and  the  chief  of  tribe  still  live  to  prove  its  truth;  and 
to  make  assuranc-e  doublv  sure,  she  told  me  to  ask  him- 
celf,  and  see  if  her  story  was  not  true." 

"  And  did  you  V 

"  Yes,  he  came  a  short  time  after  your  arrival,  and 
wrote  to  appoint  a  meeting  one  night,  and  that  night, 
I  met  him  for  the  last  time." 


A   sKCiiEV  soiuion: 


Tier  voice  clioked,  aii<i  she  stopped.  Disbrowe 
thoii<^ht  of  the  dark,  imitHed  linuro  ho  luid  seen  with 
her  that  nii>-ht  at  the  north  wiiiic- 

"•  1  tohl  liini  all;  and,  O  Alfred,  word  for  word  it 
was  true,  lie  had  been  st(>len  in  liis  infauey;  lie  did 
rerneinbcr  old  Till,  perfectly,  and  he  had  escaped  just 
as  Grizzle  told  me.  Oh!  that  last,  dreadful  parting! 
God  ^rant  1  niii^ht  ever  forget  it!'' 

""And  this,  then,  is  your  secret,  Augusta'^" 

"  This  my  secret — my  dark,  terrible  secret — that  is 
gnawing  away  my  very  heart — that  in  u  few  brief 
months  will  bring  me  to  my  grave.  May  God  forgive 
us  both,  for  we  little  thought  of  this!" 

"  And  he — where  is  he,  Augusta  ?" 

"  A  wanderer  ovei*  the  wide  world.  We  will  never 
meet  amiin." 

She  sank  down  once  m<)re  on  her  seat,  collapsed, 
prostrate,  despairing.  A  bright  gleam  of  moonlight 
broke  through  the  quivering  laurel  leaves,  and  fell  like 
the  wing  of  some  pitying  angel  on  that  despair  bowed 
young  head. 


n'l 


!MI 


RESUROAM. 


878 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


RESIT  no  AM. 


'•*;; 


1% 


" "With  wild  surprise, 

As  if  to  marble  struck,  ilevoid  of  sense, 
A  single  moment  motionless  he  stood." 

— Thomson. 


« 


ORD  AUSTREY,  my  lord." 

It  was  Mr.  Norton — that  respectable 
^eiitlcinan's  gentleman,  who  spoke.     Dis- 
l)rowe,  after  iiis  usual  easy   fashion,  was 
lounging  in  his  own  vooni,  chatting  with 
Orrie,    hut  on   hearing  his  friend's  name   announced, 
he  spi'ang  to  his  feet  with  a  suddenness  quite  startling. 
'' J.ord  Austrey — when?  how?  where?'' 
"  Whither — why — wherefore  !"  exclaimed  the  well- 
known  voice  of  Lord  Austrey  himself,  as   he  uncere- 
moniously entered.     "  I  took  the  liberty  of  entering 
sans  ccremonie^  you  see.     Earneclitfe,  nwn  anii^  how 
goes  it  ?" 

"  Austrey,  my  dear  old  fellow  !''  exclaimed  Dis- 
browe,  "  welcome  back!     When  did  you  come?" 

"  Two  or  three  days  ago.  J 1  alio!  a  young  lady  in 
the  case  !  Win-,  Alt',  what  have  you  been  about  since 
I  left  r 

"  Oh!  this  is  a  little  Yankee  friend  of  mine.  Oriole 
De  Yere — oh  !  she's  gone !  Well,  Austrey,  how  has 
the  world  been  using  you  lately  ?" 

"  Enchantingly — I'm  a  made  man,  Earneclille,  and 
the  happiest  fellow  in  England  !" 


tions  ? 


5J 


my 


•I'  -^ 


iiii 


^tr 


ft 


i'  i 


5' 


* 


1;. 
ii  111 


^  II 


374 


RESURGAM. 


*'  As  soon  as  yon  like — the  jionoymoon's  over." 

"What!"  eried  Disljrowe,  stiirting  to  his  feet,  "you 
don't  mean  to  say — " 

"  ]\ry  dear  fellow,  don't  u^et  excited  !  I  do  say  it — 
nothiiiuj  shorter.  Lady  Austrey  awaits  your  congratu- 
lations in  London."' 

"And  you  are  really  married  ?" 

"  Just  so.  Miss  Korma  Maedonald  no  longer  exists, 
and  from  her  ij^rave  has  risen  Lad}-  Georijje  Anstrey — 
the  handsomest  peeress  in  England  !  Sharp  work,  my 
boy,  eh  V\ 

"  Puissiez-vmis  etre  heurcux .'"  said  Disbrowe,  as  he 
laughingly  shook  his  friend  by  the  hand.  "I  wish  you 
joy  witli  all  my  heart.     AV^lu^re  were  you  married  V 

"  At  Home,  at  the  ambassador's,  two  months  ago." 

"  And  you  have  come  home  for  good  and  all, 
now  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  eall  Castle  Hill,  Inverness,  home.  We 
are  going  there  as  s#on  as  Lelia  leaves  England." 

"Lelia — who  is  shei" 

L©rd  (leorge  fairly  jumped  from  his  seat. 

"Why,  you  old  hermit — you  anchorite — you  St 
John  of  the  Desert — you  never  mean  to  say  you  don't 
know  who  Lelia  is  I" 

"  If  you  mean  the  I'rench  tragedy-queen  of  thai 
name — " 

"French!  She's  no  more  French  than  I  am;  she's 
English,  man  alive!  <)  ye  gods!  it  takes  away -my 
breath  only  to  think  of  her.  Lelia — the  cpieen — the 
enchantress — the  sii'en — the  Melpomene- -the  con- 
queress  !  Whew!  Earneclille,  I  want  a  glass  of  ice- 
water  to  cool  me  down  after  speaking  of  her — the  little 
devoui'ing  llame  of  lire  !"' 

"  lieally,"  said  Disbrowe,  dryly,  "extraordinary 
transports  these  for  a  married  man.  I  have  heard — or, 
lather,  read — of  this  Mademoiselle  Lelia ;  for  the  papers 
are  full  of  her.     Is  she,  then,  so  pretty  V 

"  Pretty  ?  Earncelilfe,  if  I  had  a  loaded  pistol  here, 
upon  my  soul  I  would  have  it  in  me  to  blow  your 


'you 

it— 
jratu- 

?xist8, 
rey— 

,  as  he 
li  you 

I  r 

ago." 
id   all, 

e.  We 


on  St 
doii'i 

[f  thai 

;  she's 
ay -my 
h — the 
con- 
if  ice- 
ic  little 

lilinary 

-or, 

|)apcr8 

here, 
your 


REiSUROAM. 


376 


brains  ont  for  applying  that  word  to  lier.  Pretty — 
fauirh  !  She's  glorious — maddening — divine  !  That's 
what  she  is!  You  might  as  well  say  a  tornado — a  sheet 
of  lightning — a  storm  at  t^ea — was  pretty,  as  Lelia.'" 

'•  Indeed  !  Rather  a  desperate  little  artielc  she  must 
he.  So  she  has  come  to  England.  J  thought  she  had 
heen  "Ki'*y  times  olTered  a  small  fortune,  and  refused." 

''So  !-hc  did.     She  came  with  us." 

""With  you  V  said  Dishrowe,  with  a  stare. 

"Yes,  with  us!  She  made  one  of  our  party.  She 
and  Norma  are  like  sisters." 

The  straniijest  smile  went  wanderin<»;  round  Dis- 
browe's  lips,  and  shone  bright  in  his  eyes,  when  he 
lixed  them  on  the  face  of  his  friend. 

".Lelia,  the  actress,  jind  Lady  Austrcy  !" 

"  Yes,  Lelia,  the  actress,"  said  Lord  George,  de- 
fiantly. "  Your  cold  English  pride  will  have  no  cause 
to  strain  itself  trying  to  stoop  to  her.  She  is  the 
equal  of  any  woman,  peeress  or  not,  in  all  ()road 
England.  I  have  seen  her  dancinijj  with  archdukes 
and  royal  highnesses  without  nund)er;  she  lias  been  an 
honored  guest  in  the  home  of  a  duchess.  Her  life  is 
above  reproach,  as  she  likely  is  above  want.  It  is  not 
necessity  nudges  her  play — she  has  already  acquired  for 
herself  a  fortune ;  but  ^lie  has  a  passion  for  her  art. 
Oh,  Earneclilfe  !  v  '  -it  a  dazzling  creature  she  is  !  She 
has  flashed  like  a  nicteor  through  Europe,  blinding, 
dazzling,  electrifying  wherever  she  went.  Nobody 
knows  who  or  what  she  is,  except — you  will  wonder 
when  I  tell  you — Norma  !" 

"  Norma !  how  came  she  to  know  V 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  that  is  the  strangest  part  of 
the  business.  It  was  at  Eloj'cnce  we  saw  her  first — as 
Cleopatra,  1  think,  and  a  glorious  (piecn  she  made,  for 
■whom  a  thousand  heroes  might  die.  Every  eye  was, 
of  course,  bent  upcjn  her  the  moment  she  ai)peared  ; 
and  Norma  half  rose,  and  then  fell  back  in  her  seat.  I 
looked  at  her,  and  upon  my  honor.  Earned ifle,  I  never 
was  so  startled  in  my  life ;  her  face  was  perfectly  color- 


L^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


1.0 


I.I 


■  5  0  

It  i^ 


ilM 

Z2 

M 

1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

.« 6"     - 

► 

I 


p;^ 


<^ 


//, 


^ 


^. 


>m 


%.  ^^. 


oS.    ■  :> 


// 


■^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


376 


RE  SURG  AM. 


\\  ' 


f? 


I  >     1      I' 


.?M 


1i 


l{ 


loss,  lior  ojes  darkeninii;  and  dilating,  and  her  lips 
wliitt!  and  trendjlinii;.  I  sjioke  to  Iicm',  bnt  slic  only 
grasped  niy  arm  and  niadu  a  motion  for  me  to  keep 
Htill,  without  over  removing  her  eyes  from  the  stngc 
I  confess  I  was  pnzzled,  rather;  ])ut  I  tliought  it  best 
to  l)id(;  my  time,  and  let  her  hidyship  liave  her  own 
way;  and  faith  she  had  it,  too — for  before  Cleopatra 
had  uttered  ludf  a  dozen  words,  slie  gave  a  low  cry, 
and  fell  back  fainting — stilf,  sir,  in  a  dead  swoon!" 

''  llnm-m-m  !    Very  strange,  indeed  !    AVhat  then  ?" 

"Why,  we  brought  her  home,  of  course;  but  as 
soon  as  she  recovered,  she  insisted  on  going  back — no 
persuasi(jn  could  induce  her  to  remain ;  and  she 
peremptorily  ordered  me  to  give  a  small  note  she  wrote 
to  the  manager  of  the  theater  to  be  delivered  to 
Madame  Lelia.  AVell,  sir,  he  <lid  it ;  and  the  next  thing 
was  a!i  earnest  recpiest  from  Lelia  herself,  tliat  jSTorma 
would  wait  in  her  private  dressing-room  until  after  the 
play." 

-And  did  she  r' 

*'  Ves ;  and  a  precious  long  interview  they  had  of 
it.  Like  the  'live  minutes' it  takes  a  lady  to  put  on 
lier  bonnet,  it  was  over  two  hours  before  she  made  her 
appearance;  and  then  in  such  a  state  of  delight;  by 
(xcorgc!!  if  my  Jewish  moncydender  turned  Christian 
and  burned  his  books,  I  couldn't  get  up  to  such  a  pitch 
of  ra])ture." 

"  Well,  what  was  the  result  ?" 

"  Why,  that  Lelia  l)ccame  our  traveling  companion, 
or  we  hers — 1  don't  know  which — from  that  day  until 
we  reniched  Paris.     And  there,  to  the  great  surprise  of 

every  one,  she  accepted   an  oifer  from  Mr.  M ,  of 

Theater,  to  make  her  debut  in  London,  and  aston- 
ish the  natives,  as  1  Hatter  myself  she  will  do,  slightly." 

"And  was  our  aristocratic  friend,  Miss  Emily  Tre- 
main,  reconcileil  to  the  idea  of  traveling  oi  farnille 
with  an  actress  'C 

"  Ueconciled  ?  I  should  think  so;  and  very  proud 
and  important  she  felt  about  it — for  where  archducliesses 


i.r 


RESURGAM. 


377 


r   lipg 
!  or.ly 
keep 
staii;-'. 
t  best 
r  own 
opatra 
iw  cry, 
iT' 

then  ?" 
l)ut  as 
ck — no 
id    Blie 
e  wrote 
ired   to 
it  thing 
i!sorn\a 
f  tor  the 


had  of 
put  on 
adc  her 
ht ;  by 
iristian 
a  pitch 


ipanion, 
iiy  nntil 
i:>risc  of 

,of 

d  aston- 
li-htly." 
dly  Ti-o- 
\fa7nille 

|y  proud 
lucliesses 


Rniilo,  it  is  not  for  insnlar  aristocracy  to  sneer.  And 
then  J^elia  fascinates  evurv  one  she  meets.  She  is  irre- 
fiibtible,  my  l)oy  ;  so  take  care  of  your  lieart." 

"  It  stands  in  no  danger.  1  have  a  connter-charin 
stronii;  enongli  to  protect  me  even  against  tlie  all-powor- 
ful  fascinations  of  this  tragic  mnse.  Ihit  tliis  mystery 
between  lier  and  Xorma — wliat  does  it  mean  V 

"  That  is  iust  wliat  I  wisli  von  would  ted  me  ;  for 
be  Jianged  if  I  have  the  least  idea.  JS'orma  onlylau;ih8 
and  says  :  '  AV^ait,  the  demmcmcnt  is  at  hand.'  " 

"Humph!  liather  singular  !  Is  it  another  act  of 
high  treason  to  ask  what  this  meteor  looks  likeT' 

"  Well,  Norma  mat^e  me  promise;  to  toll  you  noth- 
ing until  you  would  see  for  yourself." 

"lieally " 

"  Oh,  M'cll,  after  all,  what  difference  does  it  make, 
Earneclilfe?  It  is  oulv  a  woman's  whim,  and  your 
curiosity  will  soon  be  gratified,  for  Lelia  plays  to-night, 
and,  of  course,  you  w'iil  be  there  to  worship  like  the 
rest  of  London." 

"  Can't,  my  dear  fellow ;  couldn't  think  of  sucli  a 


"■) 


thin_ 

"  What !  you're  not  in  earnest  ?"  cried  Lord  Aus- 
trey,  aghast. 

"  iS'ever  was  I  more  so,  as  I  remember." 

"AVHiy,  you're  crazy — downright  mad,  you  know. 
Wliat's  the  reason  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have  some  friends  staying  here  with  me, 
and  I  can't  leave  them." 

"  Ih'ing  them  with  you." 

"  Humph  I  Well,  of  course,  if  they  would  like  to 
go,  that  might  do ;  if  not " 

"  If  not,  you  go  alone.  I  have  said  it.  Norma 
commanded  me,  untler  pain  of  her  etern;d  displeasure, 
an<l  half  a  score  of  the  severest  sort  of  curtaindectures, 
to  bring  you  along;  so,  will  ye,  nill  ye,  come  you  must. 
Not  a  word.  I  M'oiTt  take  any  excuses  ;  so  don't  go  to 
tlie  trouble  of  making  then)   " 


11 


A. 


^  -  ti! 


"  Oh,  but  positively  you  know 


?) 


378 


RE  SURG  AM. 


IfilliiiJ  fl 


t  r 


"  Oil,  but  positively  I  know  I  won't !  Wlio  are 
tliosc  friends  of  yours  V 

"  My  uncle,  i\[r.  De  Yere  ;  my  cousin,  Miss  De 
A^ero ;  and  that  little  ^i^ii'l  you  saw,  from  America." 

"  Well,  brini^  them  aloni^,  of  course.  They  want  to 
see  Jjelia,  too — supposiiio-  they  ai'e  not  barbarians  like 
you.  (/ome,  you  will  just  have  time  to  dress  and  beat 
JMriL-.  Tremain's  in  time  for  dinner." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  resistinui;  you,  I  see.  Make  your- 
self at  home,  while  I  go  and  consult  my  respected  micle 
on  the  subject." 

"Allrii2;ht!  only  hurry  up — there  is  no  time  to 
spare.  I  wouldn't  miss  seeing  Lelia  play  '  Jeanne 
D'Arc'  to-night  for  '  The  Crown'  Diamonds !'  Tell  the 
old  gentleman,  with  my  respects,  that  I  won't  take 
*  No  '  for  an  answer,  at  any  price." 

J)iribro\ve  laughed,  and  sauntered  out,  and,  after  a 
brief  period,  returned  with  his  uncle,  to  whom  he  pre- 
sented Loi'd  George,  with  due  decorum. 

"  You  have  met  with  l)etter  success  than  you  de- 
serve, my  Lord  Austrey,"  he  said  ;  "  for  my  cousin  not 
only  consents  to  go,  but  is  dressing  even  now  ;  and  my 
uncle  is  quite  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  Lelia, 
whose  fame  has  reached  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  yea, 
even  unto  the  far  and  facetious  regions  of  J^ew  Jersey. 
I  have  ordered  my  'coach  and  six,'  and  nothing  remains 
but  to  make  a  ^"ew  alterations  in  my  outer  man.  So, 
for  a  few  moments,  an  revoir  /" 

Half  an  hour  after  saw  tlieni(??i  rr?'?/^^,  dashing  along 
behind  two  splendid  grays.  The  whole  subject  of  con- 
versation was  "  Lelia,"  as  Lord  George  related  anecdote 
after  anecdote  of  her — her  kindness  to  tlie  poor — her 
princely  donations  to  churches  and  charitable  institu- 
tions— iier  iierce  indomitable  [)ride,  that  made  her  le- 
gions of  admirers  keep  a  long  distance  oif — her 
haughty  indei)endence,  that  made  the  friendship  of  the 
high  and  titled  no  act  of  condescension,  but  a  sim])le 
courtesy  to  an  ecpial — her  free,  fi'ank,  impulsive  ways 
— hor  splendid  acting ;  in  short,  Lelia — Lelia  was  the 


RE8UR0AM. 


379 


N\\o  are 


\Iis3   De 

I  want  to 
iaiis  Hho 
iiid  be  at 

live  yoiir- 
ted  nuele 

time  to 

' Jeanne 

Tell  the 

on't  take 

.1,  after  a 

II  he  pre- 

.  you  de- 
;ousin  not 
;  and  my 
in;:;  Lelia, 
leba,  yea, 
w  Jersey, 
r  remains 
lum.     So, 

ling  along 
■etof  con- 
anecdote 
)oor — her 
lo  iiistitii- 
dc  her  Ic- 

oil" — her 
ihip  of  the 

a  simple 
Itjivc  ways 
a  was  the 


tlicme  until  tlie  carriage  drew  np  in  front  of  the  Tre- 
main  mansion. 

Lt»rd  (rcoru^o  had  insisted  on  tlieir  all  cominGi:  with 
him,  and  Dishrowe  had  half-ndnetantly  complied.  Th.ere 
was  a  (piick  flatter  of  his  pidsi-s  at  the  thought  of  meet- 
iiii>-  Xonna  airain,  and  a  hot  n'low  in  his  face  as  he  re- 
called  their  last  parting.  How  v\'ould  she  meet  him? 
How  conld  he  congratulate  her,  and  hot'orc  so  many, 
too  ?  IJe  halt'  regretted  he  had  come  at  all ;  bnt  it  was 
too  late  to  dra^v'  hack  or  regret  now.  Lord  (reorge,  with 
Anixnsta  on  his  arm,  was  already  in  the  drawinii:-room, 
where  JSorma,  Mrs.  Tremain,  and  her  danghter  sat. 
There  was  an  introduction,  l)ows,  and  smiles,  and 
friendly  words  of  welcome  from  the  lady  of  the  house 
and  her  daughter  ;  and  Dishrowe  found  himself  hold- 
inc:  Norma's  hand  in  his,  and  wishin.*]:  her  iov,  com- 
pletely  himself — his  easy,  self-]iossessed  self  again. 

She  had  met  him  so  frankly  and  freely,  hjoked  in 
liis  eyes  with  a  smile  so  bright  and  h'lppy,  laid  her  hand 
in  his  so  promptly,  that  all  Ids  c<»'i!'u.sion  passed  away. 
She  started  violently  as  slic  saw  who  accompanied  him, 
and  turned  upon  him  a  look  of  eager  iiupiiry. 

*'  My  American  relatives,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
surprised  by  her  strange,  (piestioniug  look. 

As  Lord  George  introduced  her  to  Mr.  De  Vcrc  and 
his  daughter,  she  bowed,  while  the  blood  mounted  to 
her  temples.  Yeiy  strange,  thought  Dishrowe,  lost  in 
wonder  at  this  school-girl  blush  or  the  calm,  graceful, 
high-bred  lady. 

Something  about  Lady  Austrey  seemed  to  strike 
Mr.  De  Yere  ;  for  he  lixed  his  eyes  on  her  face  with  a 
look  at  once  so  puzzled,  so  searching,  and  so  full  of 
a  strange  recognition,  that  as  she  looked  up,  and  caught 
his  involuntary  stare,  she  crimsoned  again,  and  half- 
turned  away. 

"  1  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mi-.  De  Yere,  hastily,  be- 
coming conscious  of  his  rudeness;  "  but,  really,  your 
ladyship's  face  struck  nie  as  being  so  familiar.     Alfred, 


1 1: 

i4 


'.l^ 


'\- 


i 


880 


liESURGAM. 


'V> 


M.i 


f  i 


'    ',  :> 


docs  Lanv  Austroy  rciiiiiHl  vou  of  any  one  voiiever  saw 
be Core  r 

''  Yes,  sir.  I  liiive  often  tlioiiii;ht  slie  strikingly  re- 
seni])I('(l  that  Spanisli  l)oy,  Jacinto." 

"  The  very  one  !  The  Hkeuess  is  most  extraordi- 
nary, and  tlie  expression  istliesanie  exactly  !'' 

aXornia  tried  to  lanirh  ;  hnt  her  face  was  scarlet. 

"  AVho  was  Jacinto,  may  1  ask  f-  said  Lord  George. 

"Ayonng  Spaniard  1  met  in  New  Jersey.  He 
might  have  been  Lady  Austrey's  twin  brother — he 
looked  so  like  her.*' 

The  dinner-bell  here  fortunately  j)nt  an  end  to  a 
snbject  evidently  anything  but  welcome  to  the  lady  iu 
question,  and  it  was  not  again  renewed.  Disbrowe  sat 
beside  her  at  dinner  ;  but  all  his  ell'orts  would  not  make 
her  disclose  anything  that  would  throw  a  light  on  the 
subject  of  her  intimacy  with  Lelia,  the  actress. 

"Is  she  hinidsome'^"  he  asked. 

"  Perilously  handsome." 

"Andladv-liker' 

"  Extremely  hidydike." 

''  Does  she  remain  long  in  England  ?" 

"  That  depends — yes,  I  think  she  will.  Would  you 
like  her  to  do  sof 

"Me 
me  'r 


Why,  what  possible  interest  can  it  have  for 


She  looked  up  with  the  queerest  smile,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  will  fall  in  love  with  her?"  ho 
could  not  help  asking,  provoked  by  her  smile. 

"  Oui,  monsieur."' 

"  I  had  rather  be  excnised.  Stage-players  are  not  ia 
my  line.  1  could  not  love  an  actress,  if  she  were  a  very 
goddess  for  beauty — a  Venus  herself." 


^^  Preiuz  gardt\  won.sienr  /  do  uot  be  too  sure. 
You  can  do  as  you  please,  however.  Most  certainly 
neither  I  nor  Lelia  will  ask  you  to  do  so." 

"  Has  she  many  lovers  f ' 


"  Legions." 


^er  saw 

igly  re- 

;traorcli- 

rlet. 

2y.     lie 
,licr — lie 

end  to  a 
3  Uidy  ill 
)ro\vo  sat 
not  make 
it  on  the 


or.ld  you 
have  for 
but  said 

1  her?"  ho 


ire  not  in 
;re  a  very 

I  too  snre. 
certainly 


UESUUGAM: 


881 


"  Wealtliy  and  titled  V 

"  Yes,  my  lord.    Slio  ivfiised  the  hand  of  his  Tli<j:li- 

ness  the  Due  de  B ,  at  Villctre  ;  ^o  I  do  n()tl)L'li(jvG 

she  would  die  cf  ecstasy  if  my  Lord  of  Earneclilfo  of- 
fered her  his  hand,  heart,  and  name  to-morrow  I" 

Her  sarcastic  tones  silenced  lJisi)rowe  on  that  sub- 
ject ;  but  all  he  had  heard  pi(|ued  his  curiosity  to  see 
this  strange  actress — this  eightli  wonder  of  tlie  world  ; 
and  it  was  in  a  sort  of  fever  of  impatience  that  lie  took 
his  seat  in  the  carriage  on  tlieir  way  to  the  theater. 

It  was  crowded  when  they  entered — a  perfect  jam 
from  pit  to  ceiling.  It  was  a  brilliant  scene — fans  wav- 
ing, jewels  Hashing,  bright  eyes  sparkling,  smiles 
wreatliing  rosy  lips,  and  a  dreamy  odor  of  perfume  all 
around.  The  liigliest,  the  noblest  of  the  proud  Eng- 
lish nohlesse  were  there,  and  all  waiting  breathlessly  for 
the  curtain  to  go  uj).  A  bell  tiidvU^d — the  noise  ceased 
— a  dead  hush  fo'lowed — the  curtain  slowly  rose,  furh^d 
to  the  ceilimx,  and  there  stood  the  brave  "Maid  of  Or- 
leans  " — the  heroic  daughter  of  France,  its  banner  in 
her  hand,  at  the  head  of  ita  army — there  before  them 
stood  "  Lelia,  the  Actress  1" 

A  wild  cheer  arose — an  En<>;lish  cheer — swelliufi;, 
and  rising,  and  thundering,  till  the  very  walls  shook,  a 
regal  welcome  truly  to  the  tragic  (pieen.  IShe advanced 
a  step,  bowed,  and  smiled  with  a  (pteenly  grace,  and, 
waving  her  hand  for  silence,  uttered  a  few  brief  grace- 
ful words  of  thanks.  Another  cheer  answered  .her, 
and  then  the  vast  crowd  sank  back  in  silence  to  listen. 

All  but  the  imnates  of  one  box  !  Lord  Earneclilfe 
was  on  his  feet,  and  so  was  Mr.  l.)e  V\;re,  both  deadly 
pale.  Were  they  dreaming  ^  Were  they  nuuH  Jac- 
([uetta  stood  before  theml — dead  no  longer,  but  living, 
smiling,  radiant — the  same  .Iac([uetta  they  loved  so 
well.  JSVdther  could  speak  ;  they  stood  watching  her, 
spell-bound,  until  lier  vcdce  lirst  broke  the  silence. 
That  voice !  There  never  was  but  one  such  voice  in 
the  world  !  And  frotn  the  lips  of  both,  at  the  same 
moment,  broke  a  wild  cry  of  "  Jacquetta !" 


•i; 


■I* 


i:^ 


•  i 


S82 


THE    ACTUESti     AND     THE    EARL. 


CHAPTER  XXYIIL 


TIIE^CTRESS  AND  THE  EARL. 


''Do  not  spurn  mc  in  my  prayer; 
For  cliis  wand'riiij^r  ever  longer,  ever  more, 

Ilath  overworn  nie; 
And  I  know  not  on  what  sliore 

I  may  rest  from  my  despair." 

E.  B,   BllOWNING. 


I! 


tH  1  i 


r     c 


W'\ 


'I 


l!  Ml' 


I  • 


nw 


11  AT  cry  drew  every  eye  to  their  box,  and  an 
angry  nmrinur  of  "  ISliame  I''  ran  througli 
tlie  house  at  the  iiiterrn]>tion.  iJut  heed- 
less of  all — of  everything  save  the  actress 
before  them,  Mr.  De  Yerc;  and  Lord  Earne- 
cliffe  stood  still,  gazing  upon  her  with  eyes  M'ild  with 
surprise,  not  nnniixed  with  a  sort  of  horror  at  this  ap- 
parition from  the  dead.  Augustn,  t(j(),  had  seen  her, 
and  sank  back  with  a  low  crv,  while  Orrie  leaned  over 
the  box  with  the  loud  exckimation  : 

"  O  Grandpa  !  it's  Miss  Jack  !  it's  Miss  Jack !" 
For  one  moment  the  clear,  bright,  penetrating  eyes 
of  Lelia,  the  actress,  were  I'aised — those  dark,  clear  eyes 
Disbrowe  knew  so  well ;  but  there  wns  no  recognition 
in  their  depths,  and  dro])ping  them  again  she  went  on 
with  her  role. 

All  eyes  v.-cre  still  bent  on  their  box,  in  surprise  and 
curiosity,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  JMrs.  Tremaiu  and 
her  dauij-hter,  who  were  lost  in  wonder  a:  this  singular 
scene.  Lord  George,  too,  stared  with  all  his  eyes,  evi- 
dentlv  debatinu:  within  himself  ^^hether  he  had  not  se- 
(jured  a  party  of  lunatics  that  day  from  Disl)rowe  Park. 
Norma  was  the  oidy  one  of  the  party  who  seemed  to 


THE    ACTRESS     AND     THE    EARL. 


883 


NING. 

X,  and  an 

tlirougli 
kit  lieed- 
ic  actress 
rd  Earne- 
^vild  ^vitll 

t  this  ap- 
scen  lier, 

nod  over 

ik  r' 

[ting  eyes 
Iclear  eyes 
tcoii'idt  ion 
went  on 

•prise  and 
Iniain  and 
[s  singnlar 

eyes,  evi- 
lad  not  se- 

)\ve  Park. 

heemed  to 


understand  it,  and  there  was  amaUcions  smile  sparkling 
in  her  eyes,  and  hovering  aronnd  her  li()S,  only  prirlially 
concealed  hy  tlie  fan  she  held  hefore  her  face. 

"  I  say,  Earnecliffe,  old  fellow,  this  won't  do,  you 
know,"  said  Lord  (ieorge,  in  a  low  voice,  toiichiug  his 
arm,  ''  cveryhody's  looking  at  yon.  Sit  down — can't 
your 

'' r>y  Heaven !  it  is  her!  Herself,"  cried  Disbrowe 
passionateh\     "Living  or  dead,  it  is  Jaccjnetta." 

"  My  lord,  sit  down,  1  b(  seech  you  !  iMr.  Do  Yere, 
my  dear  &\\\  j^^ay  sit  down,"  entreated  Mrs.  Tremain. 

Mr,  De  Yere  saidv  hack  with  a  ii-roan. 

"  ( )  my  God  !  can  the  grave  give  np  its  dead  ? " 

"  Eh  ?  AVliat  ?  "  cried  Lord  (leorae.  '^  What  is  he 
talking  about!'  The  old  gent's  mad,  JS'orma;  mad  as  a 
IMarch  hare." 

"  You  may  find  there  is  method  in  his  madness. 
Lord  EarneclifTe,  do  be  seated ;  you  are  disturbing  the 
audience." 

Disbrowe  passc^d  his  liands  across  his  eyes,  as  if  to 
dispel  a  mist;  and  then  seizing  his  hat,  turned  to  go. 

"  My  lord,  where  are  you  going?"  sa'd  Lord  George, 
startled  by  his  wild  looks. 

"  To  Jacquetfa !  Living  or  dead,  she  is  mine,  and  I 
claim  her !     Let  me  go  !" 

lie  broke  from  him,  mingled  witli  the  crowd,  and 
disappeared.  The  face  of  sublime  bewilderment  and 
dismay  which  Lord  Geoi'ge  turned  to  his  wife,  at  any 
other  time  would  have  thrown  her  into  convulsions  of 
laughter ;  but  now  some  nervous  feeling  of  anxiety  for 
Disbrowe  restrained  all  inclination  for  mirth, 

"  You  had  better  follow  him,  GeorL>"e 
him,"  she  cried,  anxiously. 

"  Follow  him  !  Wliv,  where  the  dev — I  beg  vour 
pardon.  Lady  Austrey  ;  but  ui)on  my  soul  this  is  the 
most  extraordinary  thing  J  ever  heard  of !  iS'ow,  what 
do  you  suppose  has  got  into  that  good  youth,  and  this 
nice  old  American  here,  to  set  them  llaring  up  in  this 
fashion  at  the  sight  of  Lelia.     Where  is  he  gone  V 


Do  go  after 


I 


?«.  ^ 


%\ 


384 


THE    ACTRESS    Aj\I)     THE    EARL. 


Wi 


^-: 


ii,. 


"  To  the  i>:rGorirooin.  O  Gcor::c  !  do  cjo  after  him  : 
jou  have  the  entree — have  you  iiut  'P 

"  Yes  ;  but  wliat  am  I  to  do  when  I  tijet  there  V 

"Oh,  aiijtliiiig— nothing — I  don't  know.  1  wish 
you  Would  go,  anyway.     Do  go,  (leorge." 

'•  Most  decidedly  I'll  go,  my  love.  1  hope  I  know  my 
duty  as  a  married  man  too  well  to  refuse  you  anytliing. 
And  as  this  overwlielming  mystery  is  not  to  be  explain- 
ed, I  presume  1  must  trust  to  my  own  native  genius 
and  ingenuity  for  linding  it  out.     Au  revolr.     I'm  oil." 

And  opening  the  door,  he  disa])peared  among  the 
crowd,  leaving  Mrs.  Tremain  and  iier  danghter  com- 
pletely at  their  wits'  end. 

Passing  hastily  through  the  cn^wd,  Lord  George 
wended  his  way  to  the  gieem'(x>m  by  a  side-dooi- ;  and, 
on  entering,  saw  his  friend  in  violent  altercation  with 
the  manager.  Lord  Earncliil'e  was  passionately  excited, 
his  face  deadly  pale,  his  eyes  wild  and  lierce,  and  his 
whole  appeai'ance  so  com])letely  changed  from  the  lan- 
guid, indolent  being  he  had  seemed  scarce  an  honr  be- 
fore, that  it  is  no  wonder  Lord  (reorge  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment undecided  whether  it  was  his  friend  or  somebody 
else. 

"I  say,  EarnclifTe,  what  the  foul  fiend  ai*e  yon  rais- 
ing such  a  row  for  {     Mr.  ]\[axv\ell,  what's  n])^' 

"  Your  friend,  my  lord,  insists  on  seeing  Lelia  ;  and 
it  is  contrary  to  her  express  (;onnnand  to  admit  any  one. 
I  am  reaLy  very  soriy  ;  but,  1  assm'e  you,  it  is  quite 
impossible,"  said  the  managei',  bowing  deprecatingly. 

With  a  lierce  exclamation  of  angry  impatience,  Dis- 
In'owe  turned  to  Lord  Austrey. 

"I  tell  you,  sir,  1  will  see  her,  in  spite  of  all  the 
juanagers  from  here  to  the  Antipodes,  i  must  see  her, 
or  I  shall  go  mad  1" 

"  Faith,  1  think  you  arc  that  already !  What,  in  the 
name  of  all  that's  absurd,  has  come  to  you,  Karnclifl'e? 
What  do  you  want  to  see  Lelia  for  V 

''I  know  no  Lelia  I  I  came  to  see  .Facfpietta  De 
Vere  ;  and  see  her  J  will,  in  spite  of  eai-thand  Uades!'' 


Iff' 


.u, 


r  liim  ; 

low  my 

ytliliig. 

ixeniiis 

ui  ull. 
)iii2;  tlie 
er  coin- 

Gcorge 

on  with 
excited, 
and  Ilia 
.  tlic  Ian- 
hour  ho- 
ur a  nio- 
nnehody 

[you  rais- 

lia  ;  and 

|any  one. 

is  (juitc 

in!  ' 


luce 


'Dis- 

ill  the 


see 


her, 


>t,  m 


Irnc 


the 


Uil'e  % 


lu 


tta  I)e 


THE    ACTllE^^     AX/f     THE    EAIiL 


',8.> 


dad 


es 


"Wlio  tlic  demon  is  she?  Oh,  the  man  is  mad — 
that^?  Hat  I  ^Maxwell,  yon  know  I  am  a  j^ersonai  friend 
of  Leha's,  and  privile<i;ed  to  see  Jierat  any  time.  Will 
you  tell  lier  I  wisli  to  see  her  now  C 

'•Certaiidy,  my  lord.  I  havenodouht  she  will  see 
you,^''  said  the  mana^-er,  hasten! nii;  olL 

"Now,  Earneliilc,  what  /.v  the  matter?  What  iu 
the  world  has  come  over  yon  all  of  a  sudden  f' 

"1  cannot  tell  you — I  cannot  tell  ..liether  I  am  sane 
or  mad.  Do  not  ask  me,  for  1  cannot  talk  to  you  now." 
A  desperate  ij^esture,  as  he  strode  up  and  down,  spoke 
more  than  W(.u'ds. 

Lord  Georijje  looked  at  liim,  and  indnlged  in  along, 
wailing  whistle,  that  ])lainly  spoke  his  conviction  that 
his  unhappy  young  friend's  hrain  (if  he  ever  possessed 
such  a  thing),  was  completely  turned.  At  the  same 
moment,  the  manager  aj)peared. 

"  My  lord,"  he  said,  tnrning  to  Lord  George,  "  Lelia 
has  just  left  the  stage;  and  as  she  does  not  a])pear  in 
the  next  scene,  she  will  see  your  lordship  now.  Will 
you  please  to  step  tiiis  way  ?" 

Disl)rowe  started  up  to  accompany  him,  hut  Lord 
George  interposed. 

''Not  now,  \wy  dear  fellow  !  AVait  until  1  return  ; 
and  if  my  eloquence  has  any  effect  on  Lelia,  she  will 
see  you." 

lie  followed  the  manager  as  he  spoke  ;  and  Dishrowe 
was  left  pacing  up  and  down,  witii  a  hnrning  heart  and 
a  whirling  hrain,  still  striving  to  j^ersuade  himself  this 
was  all  the  wild  delirium  of  a  dream.  Jaccpietta  alive 
and  well !     Oh,  he  nmst  certaiidv  he  mad  ! 

The  return  of  Lord  Austrey  aroused  him,  and  he 
looked  at  him  with  eves  full  of  devouring  impatience. 

"Welir 

"AVeil,  I  have  seen  her,  and  she  will  see  you  after 
the  play  ;  so  rein  in  that  mad  impatience  of  yonrs  until 
then.  How  you  are  going  to  apologize  for  intruding 
upon  her,  1  don't  know.     She  smiled  wdien  I  told  her 

17 


''if 


■^i 


386 


THE    ACTJiE.SS     AXIJ     THE    EARL. 


I 


fi 


^i^-'-^t 


tlie  state  of    iniiitl    her   appeiinince   luid    thrown    you 

into;;  _  _ 

Disbrowe  Ptill  strode  up  Jind  down,  like  one  pos- 
sessed. Lord  (loorge  threw  himself  into  a  ehuir  and 
looked  at  liini. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  what  a  treasure  you  nuist  be  to 
your  bootuiaker,  if  you  are  in  the  habit  ttf  taking  such 
severe  turns  as  this  I  'Pon  my  honor!  I  would  give 
all  the  spare  cliange  1  have  about  ine,  to  know  wliat 
has  come  to  you  so  suddenly.  \V(^irt  you  go  back  to 
the  theater  and  see  the  play  ])l<cyed  out  C 

"  No — it  would  drive  me  mad  to  look  at  her  there 
again!"  exclaimed  Disbrowe,  voliemeiitly. 

Lord  George  stared,  and  indulged  himself  in  a  low, 
hysterical  whistle. 

An  hour  and  a  half  drao:ijed  on  their  endless  lencctli 
before  the  drama  was  ended.  Disbrowe  had  wrought 
himself  up  to  a  perfect  fever  of  impatience,  when  the 
manager  approached  them  and  annoimced  the  coming 
of  Lelia. 

And  even  as  he  spoke,  she  stood  beside  them,  look- 
ing at  Disbrowe  with  her  large,  calm  eyes.  Those  eyes  ! 
what  a  spell  they  cast  over  him,  cahning  down  his  nuid 
fever  of  impatience  like  ice  cast  on  lire !  Those  clear, 
bright,  penetrating  eyes,  with  their  unl"athomaI)le  depth 
of  mockery,  how  well  he  knew  them  !  Those  short, 
bright,  clustering  curls — that  round,  white,  boyish 
brow — those  sweet,  beautiful  lips,  that  small,  graceful 
form,  how  well — how  well — he  knew  them  all  !  It 
seemed  but  yesterdav  since  he  nad  bidden  her  farewell 
in  the  parlor  of  Fontclle  Hall — forever,  as  he  thought ; 
and  uow  they  stot)d  face  to  face  again ! 

"  Jacquetta !  Jacquetta  !"  he  passionately  cried, 
"hive  we  met  aij-ain  V 

She  glanced  at  him  with  her  calm  eyes,  and  drew 
back  in  haughty  sur])rise. 

"  My  lord,  what  does  this  mean  V  she  said,  turning 
to  Lord  Austrey. 

"  Are  you  mad,  Earnecliffe  !  What  the  fouliiend  do 


I    you 

3     pOS- 

ir  iind 

be  to 

\   U'ivo 

V  NvllUt 

jiick  U) 

-  there 

I  a  low, 

i  length 
vroiight 
hen  the 
coining 

n,  look- 
se  eyes ! 
lis  uuid 
so  clear, 
0  depth 
0  bhort, 
l)oyish 
crraceful 
till !     It 
farewell 
hought ; 

y    cried, 

nd  drew 


turning 


iieud  do 


THE    ACTRESS     AND     THE    EAUL. 


337 


not   forgotten 


you  mean  with  your  '  Ja((|uett:i  ''  "  i-aid  Lord  An-trcy, 
ill  a  tierce  \\  iiispi'i*.  Then  aloud  :  '•  Madam,  wiii  you 
excuse  my  friend  '.  Unle>s  he  has  suddenly  gone  rrazy, 
I  do  not  !;nou'  how  to  account  for  this.  Allow  me  to 
present  him  :   Lord  I"]arneclill"e,  Madame   J^elia.'' 

She  howed,  and  the  faintest,  strangest  smile  went 
wandering  round  Ikm'  lips.  That  smile!  had  he  not 
Been  it  a  tliousand  times  i)efore^  lie  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow,  like  one  bewildered. 

"  Am  I  sane  or  mad  '.  ( 'an  the  dcnid  have  risen  again  ? 
Madam,  for  heaven's  sake!  answer  nie,  before  1  go 
wild — were  you  ever  called  Jac(juetta  r** 

She  came  over,  and  held  out  her  hand,  with  the  old, 
bright,  half-mocking  smile. 

"  Yes  !  And  so  Cousin    Alfred   ha 
Jack  Do  Vere  'P 

lie  took  her  hand  and  tried  to  speak,  but  a  sudden 
faintness  came  over  him,  and,  deadly  i)aie,  he  sank 
mute  and  voiceless  into  a  chrir. 

"  My  lord,  he  is  fainting!''  she  cried,  in  alarm. 

He  made  a  faint  motion  with  his  head. 

"  No — it  is  nothing.     A  glass  of  water — quick  !" 

She  caught  it  from  the  manager's  hand,  and  held  it 
to  his  lips.  lie  drank  it  oil",  and  catching  both  her 
Lands  in  his,  looked  up  in  the  bright,  l)eautifu!,  smiling 
face,  with  such  a  strange,  troubled,  yearning  gaze. 

"Well,  my  lord,  you  will  know  mo  the  next  time, 
that  is  certain.     Had  you  not  better  let  go  my  hands  V 

"O  Jacquetta!  Jacquetta!  is  this  really  you  i" 

"Well,  i  am  rather  inclined  to  think  so.  Do  1  not 
look  substantial  enough  V 

And  she  laughed  as  she  released  her  hands. 

"O  Jacquetta!   I  thought  you  were  dead  !  ' 

A  dark  sluuhnv  passed  over  her  face,  a  strong 
shiver  passed  through  her  frame,  and  she  turned  away 
with  a  passionate  gesture. 

"  O  that  dreadful  death-sleep  !  that  terrible  vault ! 
that  awful  awakening  !  God  grant  1  could  forget  it !" 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  face  for  a  moment,  and 


[•• 


I  \: 


:^i 


388 


THE    AUTRIJSS     AND     THE    EARL. 


ii 


VU 


then  dropped  tlieiii — culiri  onco  more,  lie  started  to 
his  feet,  a  new  li.;!it  dawnin/i;  npon  iiini. 

"  Then  yon  were  \\(A  dead — only  in  a  trance?  Jac- 
quetta  I   Jacqnc^tta  !  wa.s  it  to  'P 

"  ^M'en  81),  WW  lord." 

"  And  then — good  heavens !  yon  were  buried 
alive  'T 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  witli  another  strong  shudder. 

"  Great  lieavens  !  And  liow  were  you  saved  from 
your  awful  fate,  Jae(]uetta  C 

"  (rod  lives !''  she  said,  looking  nj)  reverently. 
"And  the  same  power  that  onee  saved  Daniel  in  the 
lion's  den,  Jonah  from  the  depths  of  the  sea,  saved 
Jacquetta  frv)m  her  living  tondj." 

'"But  how — who — Mr.  De  Yerc  did  not  know?" 

"  iSi^o;  hilt  what  ean  it  matter  to  yon,  lord  earl  C 

The  old  look  of  eold  hauteur  passed  over  her  face, 
and  she  turned  away  with  a  small  impatient  motion. 

"  Oh,  Jae(pietta  !''  he  niproaehfully  cried. 

"  Well,  my  lord." 

"  My  lord  !  This  from  you  ?  It  was  Alfred  once, 
Jacquetta." 

"  That  time  has  passed,  my  Lord  Earnecliffe  ;  and 
you  had  better  forget  it  ever  existed.  It  is  not  fraught 
with  b.ich  pleasant  reminiscences  for  either  of  us." 

"Forget  it!  Kever,  while  lile  remains!  Oh,  Jac- 
quetta !  you  are  free  now  ;  may  I  not  hope " 

"  Lo]'d  earl,  you  forget  yourself  !"  she  inqieriously 
cried.  "  IJo[)o  for  nothing  from  me!  Jack  Ue  Verc 
is  Jack  De  A' ere  still !" 

"  Thank  heaven  for  that !  Look  on  this,  Jacquetta, 
and  see  if  you  know  it  yet." 

He  drew  out  a  k)cket  set  with  diamonds,  and  0])en- 
ing  it,  disclos(Hl  a  small  piece  of  paper  on  which  a  few 
faint  j)encil-marks  still  lingered.  IShe  took  it;  and  up 
over  her  neck,  face,  and  brow  Hushed  a  hot,  crimson 
tide. 

"  JVIy  lord  !  my  lord !"  she  cried,  iu  a  choking  voice, 


THE    ACTRESS     AND     THE    EARL. 


;'>80 


v\  to 

JilC- 

)iu-led 

.  from 

i-eutly. 
in  the 


li 


I  have  not  deserved  this!     I   was  insane  when  that 


was  written. 


w 


15 


1  v" 

er  face, 
jtiou. 


;d  once, 

u  ;  iuid 
fraught 

lis. 

L)h,  Juc- 

|)erionsly 
le  Veve 

L-qiietta, 

Ind  open- 
\\\  a  tow 
I;  and  up 
crimson 


[ng  voice, 


"  Tlien  let  nie  hope  you  arc  insane  still.  ()li,,  Jac- 
(jiietta  !  my  life!  my  love!  my  Jiope  !  do  not  ruii'iict 
M'hat  you  once  wroie  here.  Tell  me  you  love  me 
still !" 

'"  Lord  Earneehlfe,  do  you  dare  to  speak  tlnis  to 
me?  Do  you  fori^et  the  secret  of  that  lonely  room  in 
old  Fontellef' 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  ^  Oh,  Jacquetta!  lie  is 
dead!" 

"  Dead  !"  she  cried,  with  a  start,  turning  lirst  red 
and  then  ashen  white.  '"  Oh,  Alfred  !  1  never  heard 
this." 

"  lie  has  been  dead  nearly  a  year,  now.  You  are 
free — free  as  air,  Jaccpietta!  My  heart,  my  hand,  my 
fortune — my  very  lite,  lies  at  your  feet.  Oh,  Jae- 
quetta !  speak,  and  tell  me  1  may  live." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  glance,  and  her 
cold  look  softened  a  little  as  she  saw  his  eager,  wild, 
passionate  gaze. 

"  Then  you  have  not  forgotten  Jacquetta  yet,  my 
lord  V\ 

"  Forget  you  !  Oh,  Jacquetta !  sleeping  or  waking, 
night  or  day,  you  have  never  for  one  instant  been  for- 
gotten." 

"  You  are  blessed  witli  a  good  memory,  Lord  Earne- 
cliffe  ;  and  yet  there  is  one  little  circumstance  you 
have  ceased  to  remember  for  a  moment.  Allow  me  to 
remind  you  :  you  are  a  belted  earl,  and  1  am — Lelia, 
the  actress !" 

That  drawing  up  of  the  small,  delicate  figure — that 
proud  lift  of  the  head — that  clear,  bright  llash  of  the 
dark  eyes — that  scornful  curl  of  the  short  up[)er  lip — 
what  a  world  of  pride  they  betrayed! 

"iSelther  you  nor  1  care  for  that  one  straw — 0110 
whit!  Wealth  and  rank  are  but  a  name,  and  iiKickery, 
when  put  in  competition  with  your  love.  You  are  not 
Lelia,  the  actress,  to  me  ;  you  are  Jacquetta — my  Jac- 


i^'i 


890 


THE    ACT  RE, "i  8     J  AD     THE    EARL. 


qiietta — my  liege  lady — my  darling — the  one  love  of 
my  life !     0  Jacquetta  !*' 

"  Softly — soflly,  my  dear  lord.  What  a  gale  you 
do  get  into  for  a  triHe!"  (And  the  provoking  smile  of 
other  days  broke  over  her  pretty  face.)  "  Let  us  talk 
this  small  matter  over  calmly,  sensibly,  and  leave  out 
all  transports  for  the  present.  Tliere  are  more  heads  to 
this  indictment  than  one.  I  am  Captain  Nick  Tem- 
pest's daughter !" 

Disbrowe  was  provoked  by  this  off-hand  way  of 
doing  business,  and  exclaimed,  impetuously  : 

"  What  the  deuce  do  I  care !  I  don't  want  to  marry 
Captain  I^ick  Tempest!     O  Jacrpictta!" 

"  There  !  you  are  at  it  again !  How  often  have  you 
said,  thdt  during  the  last  ten  minutes  ?  So  you  are 
willinjTj  to  forujct  evcrythinijj  but — " 

"  But  that  I  love  you  more  than  life.  Jacquetta — 
Jacquetta !  you  are  torturing  me.  Speak,  and  tell  me — 
am  1  to  live  or  die?" 

She  looked  in  his  eyes — in  his  flushed,  eager,  impas- 
sioned face,  so  bright  and  beautiful  in  its  fervent  plead- 
ing— and  she  read  there  the  strong,  undying  love  that 
was  to  bless  her  whole  life.  A  soft,  tender  sujile  came 
to  her  lips,  something  like  a  tear  to  her  eye,  and,  laying 
her  small  white  hand  in  his,  she  said,  brightly  : 

"Live,  my  lord!  Forever  and  ever  Jacquetta  is 
yours !" 

Well,  good  reader,  are  you  on  the  qui  vlve  for  what 
came  after  that  ?  If  you  are,  and  expect  a  glowing  de- 
scription of  Lord  Earned  life's  transports,  I  am  sorry  to 
disappoint  you.  The  fact  is,  it  is  very  tantalizing  (iMher 
reading  or  writing  of  such  things — something  like  beiuii: 
hungiy,  and  looking  in  a  pastry-cook's  window  when 
you  iiave  no  money  in  your  pocket.  Just  imagine,  my 
dear  gentleman  friend,  how  you  felt  when  '\your  own 
Mary  Ann"  said  something  similar,  and  multij)ly  that 
by  a  thousand-fold,  and  you  will  have  a  pretty  good 
idea  of  how  Lord  Earneclilfe  felt  at  that  moment.     It 


THE    AGTREbS     AM)     Till:    KARL. 


31)1 


jtta  13 


wliat 

hg  do- 

■ry  to 

oitlicr 

w  lie  11 

^0,  iny 
Ir  own 
'  tluit 
good 
t.     It 


was  one  of  those  brief,  blissful  instants  of  unmitigated 
sunshine  than  shine  on  us  so  rarely — niore's  the  })ity ! — 
in  this  life  ;  and  two  of  tlie  vranderers  in  this  vale  of 
tears  were,  for  the  time  bein<^,  perfectly  and  eompletely 
hapj)y. 

But  Lord  Austrey !  AVhat  words  can  paint  the 
astonishment,  amazement,  not  to  say  horror,  of  that 
youn<»;  Briton  at  hearini^  and  seeinj^  all  this!  The 
whole  Llnf^lish  lano;uage  would  Jiave  been  inadequate  to 
the  task  of  expressing  his  feelings.  J^o,  thrusting  his 
hands  into  his  pockets,  he  began  whistling,  with  the 
most  piercing  emphasis,  "God  save  the  King." 

Jacquctta  looked  at  him,  and  laughed. 

"  You  think  us  crazv — do  vou  not,  my  lord  ?" 

"Well,  really,''  said  Lord  George,  politely,  "I  am 
Dot  prei)arc(  to  say  exactly  that  you  are ;  but  my  pri- 
vate convictiv^n  is,  that  some  one  of  us  three  is  an  idiot. 
"Which  one  it  ^*'^,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say." 

"Come,  George,  my  dear  old  fellow,''  exclaimed 
Disbrow^e,  laying  a  hand  on  either  shoulder,  "wish  me 
joy  !     I  am  the  happiest  fellow  in  the  whole  world  1" 

"Oh!  arc  you  ^  Well,  of  course,  you  ought  to 
know  best;  but  LU  be  hanged  if  L  can  make  head  or 
tail  of  this  whole  matter !" 

"All  in  good  time,  my  boy!  Jacquetta,  will  you 
not  come  with  us  to-night  ?  Augusta,  and  Orrie,  and 
Mr.  De  Vero  are  here.'' 

"I  know — I  saw  them.  No,  not  to-night,  Alfred. 
I  have  given  you  my  address  ;  come,  the  whole  of  you, 
to-morrow.  I  am  not  quite  calm  enough  to  see  them 
to-night.  Oh,  Alfred  !  it  all  seems  like  a  dream  to  me 
yet!" 

"  Thank  Heaven,  it  is  a  reality !  Ihit,  first,  Jac- 
quetta, will  you  not  tell  me  how  you  were  saved  i" 

"  bimply  enough.  My  father — Captain  Nick  Tem- 
pest— saved  my  life." 

"lie!     How?" 

"  It  appears  he  was  at  Green  Creek  when  I  was  re- 
moved ;  and,  upon  his  return,  wtis  furious  to  find  what 


I 

% 

■•'* 
'I 


A\\ 


4 


I 


% 


'A 


\ 


392 


THE    ACTllLSS     AND     THE    EARL. 


'■^.     m 


m  I? 


m 


4,,i;i 


;t';i 


I  ■  ' 


Mr.  Do  Vcrc  ]iad  done.  At  first  ho  was  for  goins^  to 
I'ontolle,  and  iiiakin/^  a  soene  witli  Mr.  Do  Vore ;  but 
(iri/.zle  ])rov:>ilod  upon  liiiii  to  take  a  luoro  prudent 
course,  and  sul)s(.ituto  cunning-  for  vicdeuce.  lie  came 
to  Fontelle  that  inu'ht,  saw  old  Tribuhition — poor 
Aubrey's  nurse — "m\^  throuii'h  lier  means,  obtained  the 
key  of  the  vault,  entered,  aiul  found  ine  alive  V 

"  Heavens  !  what  a  situation  for  3'ou  !"' 

"I  had  scarcely  time  to  realize  my  situation;  for  I 
had  just  awakened  from  my  deathdike  sloe]) — my  trance, 
or  whatever  you  may  call  it ;  and  Ca])rain  Tem])est, 
who  can  bo  cool  and  self-possessed  in  a  crisis,  made  no 
to-do  about  it,  but  carried  me  olf,  ijjot  me  on  l)oard  the 
'  Fly-l)y-Kip;ht,'  where  by  the  aid  of  his  surgeon,  before 
morning  Jac(pietta  was  herself  again  !" 

"  ILjw  strani»;e  and  terrible  !  J  have  often  heard  of 
such  deadly  sleeps  befoi'e.  Good  heavens !  if  ho  had 
not  come,  what  a  fate  mii!;ht  have  been  vours  !" 

"  Wc  will  not  tliink  of  it.  Heaven  was  merciful. 
Do  you  know  that  all  the  time  I  lay  there  for  dead, 
I  heard  and  understood  everything  that  passed?  I 
know  you  watched  by  my  side  all  that  long,  sad  night 
— I  knew  they  were  going  to  bury  me ;  but  I  could 
not  utter  a  word,  nor  make  the  faintest  motion.  Life 
was,  suspended,  seemingly  ;  yet,  oh !  how  vividly  it  all 
comes  back  to  me  now !  I  sulfered  an  age  of  agony  iu 
those  few  hours." 

"  My  poor  Jacquetta  !  my  own  darling  !  To  think 
there  should  have  been  such  a  strange  destiny  keeping 
'IS  apart  in  this  way  !  Truly,  this  world  is  full  of  pa- 
per walls !'' 

"  AVe  have  l)roken  them  down  at  last.  Jacquetta 
and  Alfred  stand  on  equal  terms  now — do  they  not?" 
*  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Heaven  be  praised — yes !  But,  tell  me,  how  came 
you  to  seek  the  stage  ?" 

"  It  was  my  destiny,  I  suppose.  I  was  made  to  bo 
ail  actress  and  not  a  countess.  However,  I  su])]')ose  I 
must  submit.     Captain  Tempest — I  cannot  call  him  fa- 


nsj  to 
;  Ijut 
iideiit 
came 
-poor 
;d  the 


fori 
raiice, 
ii])est, 
ide  no 
rd  the 
before 

)ard  of 

ic  had 

;reif\d. 
•  dead, 
ed?  I 
night 
could 
Life 
it  all 
(»iiy  in 

think 
3eping 
)f  pa- 

[qiietta 
notf 

came 

to  be 
hose  I 


THE    ACTRESS     AND     TUE    EARL. 


303 


IIU 


fa- 


ther, somehow — and  I  came  to  nndcrstand  each  other 
pretty  well  before  onr  journey's  end.  Alfred,  they  say 
the  demon  is  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted  ;  and  1  found 
Captain  Xick  anything  but  the  ferocious  monster  he 
was  represented.  lie  saw  we  could  not  get  on  to- 
gether, and  he  agreed  to  let  me  go  through  the  world 
my  own  way.  So  we  parted — he  for  Cuba,  and  I  for 
France ;  and  since  then,  we  have  never  met.  I  took 
my  own  name,  and  was  successful,  as  you  know.  I 
met  Lady  Austrey  abroad,  and  came  with  her  to  Eng- 
land." 

"And  that  reminds  me!  ITow  in  the  world  came 
you  and  Norma  ever  to  know  each  other  {" 

She  laughed,  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 

"  What  great  stupid  things  these  lords  of  creation 
are.     So  you  really  cannot  suspect  ?" 

"Upon  my  honor  [  cannot." 

"Then  I  shall  not  tell  you — perhaps  T^orma  may 
someday.  But  tell  me,  Alfred,  how  is  Augusta?  I 
saw  her  in  your  box,  looking  like  a  living  skeleton." 

"  Yes  ;  she  is  dead  in  life." 

"  My  poor,  poor  sister.  Have  they  discovered  the 
source  of  this  mysterions  sorrow  of  hers  yet  V 

"  I  have  ;  she  told  me  in  confidence,  and  I  believe 
it  has  no  real  foundation  whatever  ;  yet  you  see  it  is 
wearing  away  her  life.  What  a  pity  we  cannot  all  be 
happy  in  this  v*-orld — as  happy  as  J   am." 

"I  don't  know  as  yon  have  any  great  cause  for  hap- 
piness after  all.  I  am  not  nnich  of  a  treasure  for  any 
one.  But  now  you  positively  must  go,  Alfred ;  and, 
listen — bring  Orrie  with  you  when  you  come  to-mor- 
row. I  wonder  if  Mr.  Do  Yere  will  give  her  to  me 
now." 

"  He  shall.  The  Countess  of  EarneclllTe  shall  claim 
her  own  child.  She  knew  you  the  moment  she  saw 
you,  Jaccpietta." 

"  I  am  glad  !  I  am  glad  !  ()  Alfred  !  how  my  heart 
has  yearned  for  that  child — almost  as  much,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile,  half-sad,  half-gay,  "  as  it  has  for  somebody 

17* 


1 

1 

,■{'■ 

:|| 

^^^ 

M 

Si 

1 ;  ' 

m 

i  ('  , 

894 


THE    ACTRESS     AND     THE    EARL. 


else.  And  now,  Lord  Austrey,  goodnight;  rcmeuibor 
me  to  licr  hidyship,  and  tell  her  her  prophecy  has  come 
true.'''' 

"  AVhat  was  that  V  said  Disbrowe,  curiously. 

"Nevermind.  I  will  tell  you  someday.  Good- 
night, Alfred — good-night,  my  lord." 

She  turned  to  go.     Disbrowe  took  a  step  after  her. 

"  Not  with  this  cold  parting,  surely,  Jacquetta  V 

"  Keep  the  feast  till  the  feast-day,"  laughed  Jac- 
quetta. And  with  a  wave  her  hand  and  a  bright,  saucy 
glance,  she  was  gone. 


AN    OLD     FOE. 


896 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


AN  OLD  FOE. 


*'  Who  comes  from  the  bridal-chamber  ? 
'Tis  Azrael,  tlie  ungel  of  death." — Thalaba. 


T  was  a  liappy  scene  on  which  the  glad 
snnshine  streunuMl  the  next  morning,  as  it 
came  in  lonij:,  slanting  beams  between  the 
folds  of  the  damask  curtains,  aiid  irradiated 
the  beamiiiii:  faces  on  which  it  fell. 
They  were  in  Jacquetta's  parlor  at  the  hotel — Mr. 
De  Vere,  Augusta,  Orrie,  and  Disbrowe.  Jaccpietta 
herself,  bewitching  in  a  morning-dress  of  blue  silk,  sat 
on  a  low  ottoman  at  Mr.  De  Vere's  side,  one  hand 
clasped  in  his,  the  other  arm  encircling  little  Orrie.  It 
seemed  like  old  times  to  be  all  together  again,  and  the 
sad,  lonely  years  that  had  intervened  since  they  parted 
last,  were  like  a  dark,  vague  dreauj.  Jacquetta  sat, 
bright,  radiant,  entrancing  as  a  little  sunbeam  ;  her 
piquant  little  face  Hushed,  sparkling  with  her  new- 
found happiness.  Air.  De  Vere's  face  wore  a  look  of 
quiet  delight,  tinged  with  a  sort  of  chronic  remorse  for 
the  i)ast ;  and  little  Orrie  stood  ffiizimj;  on  her  new- 
found  nianmia,  with  a  mingled  exi)ression  of  pleasure 
and  doubt.  Even  Augusta's  sad,  wan  face  was  lit  up 
with  a  faint  glow  of  pleasure,  and  her  large,  melancholy 
dark  eyes  lingered  long  and  fondly  on  the  bright  face 
of  her  lonix-lost  sister. 

But  Disbrowx' — who  shall  paint  the  state  of  beati- 
tude he  was  in — the  profound  joy,  too  deep  and  intense 
for  words'^  Ah  !  cynics  may  scolf;  but,  after  all,  the 
brightest  moments  of  our  life  is  when  we  know  we  love 


'    ? 


TS-— ?-?— ^HP 


396 


^.Y     OLD     FOE. 


•I 


'  [ 


M 


W%^\ 


and  arc  lovud  again.     It  brings  the  most  ])Ci'fcet  joy 
this  world  has  to  give.       I  don't  say  it  will  last ;  and 
you  know  tlie  pithy  Scotch  proverb :     "A   kiss   and   a 
drinlv  of  water  make  bnt  a  })oor   breakfast;''    hut  after 
all,   the   kiss  is  very  delicious  for  the  time  being;  and 
thouij:h  one  would  not  live  on  sweets  always,  they   are 
very  delightful  things,  indeed,  in  their  way,  and  nnich 
more  pleasant  at    the    moment   than   the  hard  brown 
bread   of    every-day   life.     So  Lord  Earnecliife — poor, 
faithful  fellow  ! — felt  repaid  a  thousand-fold  for  all  he 
had  endured   and  suifered  for   her  sake ;    and  as  the 
lieart  best  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  he  had  suffered 
too.     To  think  that  she  ^vas  his  at   last,   his   own — this 
fierce,  tameless  spirit,  half-mortal,  half-changeling,   but 
wholly   bewitchin  , — to  think  that   he  was  to  ])lace  a 
coronet  on  that  graceful  head — to  call  her  wife,  to — 
oh  !  it  was  too  nnich  bliss  !  and  it  would  have  rerpnred 
an  iceberg  applied  to  either  temple  to  cool  the  fever  in 
his  blood  at  the  thought. 

"  Strange,  strange,  strange ! — most  strange,"  nuir- 
mnred  Mr.  De  Vere,  as  he  listened  to  Jacquetta  repeat- 
in<»:  the  story  Disbrowe  had  told  him  the  nii^lit  before. 
"  O  Jacquetta  !  what  an  escape  you  have  had.  What 
an  awful  fate  might  have  l)een  yours — to  be  buried 
alive,  the  most  dreadful  of  all  dooms !  What  a  debt  of 
gratitude  we  ail  owe  to  Captain  I'empest  at  last!" 

"  lie  was  very  kind  to  me ;  and  I  owe  him  more 
than  I  can  ever  repay  ;  but  to  live  on  wealth  obtained 
as  his  had  been,  I  could  not ;  and  so  we  parted." 

"  I  wonder  he  let  you  go,"  said  Air.  De  Yere.  "  lie 
seemed  bent  on  obtaining  you  that  day — that  terrible 
day — I  will  never  forget." 

"Do  not  think  of  it,  sir.  No  ;  strange  to  say,  he 
made  no  objection  to  my  resolution.  1  believe  he 
loved  me  in  a  sort  of  \yay — tliat  is,  he  did  not  care  two 
pins  for  Jaccpietta  De  Vere  ;  but  he  still  fondly  cher- 
ished the  memory  of  his  lost  Lelia.  And  seeing  how 
desperately  in  earnest  I  was,  he  did  not  oppose  me. 
And  so  we  parted  in  Havre ;  he  to  go  to  Cuba,  and  I 


ct  joy 

;  and 
iind   a 

alter 
; ;  and 
jy   arc 

much 
brown 
—poor, 
-  all  he 
as  the 
Liliered 
1 — this 
(V,  but 
])hice  a 
c,  to — 
.^quired 
ever  in 

"  niur- 

repeat- 

before. 

What 

buried 

ebt  of 

a  more 
)tained 

"He 

terrible 

say,  he 
eve  he 
are  two 
ly  ehcr- 
njji;  how 
jsc  me. 
ji,  and  I 


AN  OLD    fop:. 


307 


to  go  to  Paris,  under  the  name  of  Madame  Leila,  and 
make  my  lirst  appearance  on  any  sta^e.'' 

"  What  a  strani^e  life  yours  has  been,  Jac(pietta  !  — 
a  real  romance  in  real  Hfe.  What  a  brave,  stronir  heart 
you  must  have,  my  dear  chihl,  to  endure  sd  mucii  and 
make  no  siijjn !  And  all  thruugh  me!  O  Jaequetta, 
how,  /loio  can  you  ever  i'oi'iz;ive  me  V 

"Very  easily,  sir.  You  do  not  think  me  such  a 
vindictive  little  monster,  I  h  pe." 

"  Ihit  yor  have  b(icn  so  cruelly  wronii^ed  ;  so  deeply 
injured — deprived  of  a  name,  of  a  home,  of  friends,  of 
a  child,  of  a  father,  all  in  one  day.  O  Jac(pietta!  you 
may  forgive  me  ;  but  I  can  never  forgive  myself." 

"Dear  ])apa,"  she  said,  calling  him  for  the  first  time 
by  the  old  familiar  name,  "why  will  you  rake  over  the 
ashes  of  a  lire  that  went  out  long  ago.  Let  the  dead 
past  bury  its  dead,  and  remember  nothing  but  that  I 
am  the  happiest  woman  in  all  England  to-day." 

She  looked  at  Disbrowe  with  a  smile;  and  her 
bright  eyes  were  full  of  ])erfect  love  and  trust. 

"After  a  storm  there  cometh  a  calm,  and  after  tears 
and  weeping  lie  poureth  in  joyfuiness!"  nuuMnured 
Mr.  De  Verc.  "  lleaven  be  ])raised  for  that !  And 
now,  Jaequetta,  will  you  ever  go  back  to  America^" 

She  laughed  a  little,  glad  laugh. 

"  You  forget  Jaequetta  is  not  to  be  her  own  mis- 
tress much  longer — more's  the  pity.  You  must  consult 
my  future  lord  and  master  about  that,  as  1  will  have  to 
bow  to  his  superior  judgment,  1  suppose." 

"  Your  future  lord  and  master  is  ready  to  obey  his 
liege  lady's  slightest  wish.  Do  what  you  like,  go  where 
you  like,  and  you  will  please  me,  even  should  it  be  to 
the  remotest  corner  of  Kamtschatka  !" 

"How  charming!  W^hat  a  model  husband  you 
will  make,  my  lord  !  AVliat  do  30U  wager  you  ai*e  not 
ready  to  give  me  a  good  shaking  before  a  month, 
now  f 

"  It  would  not  be  the  lirst  time  I  have  felt  liUe  it, 
you  little  torment  1     Nevertheless,  we  will  go  back  to 


^i 


msm 


398 


AN    OLD     FOE. 


AiiR'ric'U  svlionevcr  you  please,  and  buj  the  wliole  State 
of  iS\'\v  Jersey  lor  a  couiitry-suafc,  if  you  fc^ay  so." 

''Thank  you!  How  vorv  Lroiierous  you  are!  Dear 
— dear  old  ]'\>iitel!e — liow  glad  1  shall  be  to  see  it 
again  i     Won't  you,  Ori'ie  i"' 

"■  Y-e-s,'"'  t-aid  Orrie,  meditatively.  "I  guess  so,  if 
grandpa  don't  send  nie  ba(;k  to  school.  I  hate  school. 
I'd  a  great  deal  lather  go  with  Frank  and  be  a  iniddy." 

"  Poor,  dear  Fraidc  !''  laughed  Jacquetta,  "he  was 
such  a  stanch  friend  and  admirer  of  mine,  always.  I 
wish  you  had  ljn>ught  him  with  you  to  Enghuid,  papa." 

"1  couldn't,  my  dear.  You  will  see  him,  though, 
when  Alfred  takes  'you  back.  And,  d  jj?'o/)OS,  when 
are   you   to   be   transformed    into    Lady    Earnecliife, 

Jack  r 

Jacquetta  blushed,  but  before  she  could  speak,  Dis- 
browe  began,  beseechingly : 

"  Do  intercede  for  me,  sir !  where  is  the  use  of 
waiting  i  1  have  been  urging  her  to  name  some  day 
next  week,  but  she  is  not  to  be  persuaded.  If  you  will 
only  try  your  iniluen  'e,  you  may  prevail  on  her.  Au- 
gusta— Orrie — do  pjrsuade  her  to  listen  to  reason  !" 

"  Reason  !  Now,  my  lord,  I  think  it  is  most  un- 
reasoiuible — next  month  will  be  quite  time  enough." 

Disbrowe's  gesture  of  despair  at  such  an  announce- 
ment made  Mr.  De  Vero  smile ;  and,  turning  to  the 
willful  beauty,  he  began,  coaxingly  : 

"  Nonsense,  Jacipietta! — don't  bo  absurd  !  I  can't 
see  why  you  should  object  to  next  week,  if  the  settle- 
ments can  be  got  ready  in  that  time — eh,  Earnecliife  ?" 

"Of  course  not,  sir!  There  is  no  possible  reason 
why  she  should  do  so  ;  and,  as  for  the  settlements,  I'll 
pledge  you  my  W(3rd  they  will  be  all  right.  Come, 
Jacquetta,  do  consent  and  make  me  happy  at  once." 

"Happy!  lie  calls  that  happiness!"  said  Jac- 
quetta, dot  to  voce.  "  Why,  pajxi,  such  haste  is  per- 
fectly barbarous ! — no  one  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing ! 
Why,  when  a  man  is  going  to  be  hanged  they  give 
him  three  or  four  weeks  to   prepare ;  and  I  don't  see 


AN    OLD     FOE. 


809 


J) 


55 


wliy  you  should    be   less  iiiercil'ul    than  the  grim    old 
jwdge  !" 

Dit^browe  flung  himself  into  a  chair  with  a  groan. 

'' xS o\v,  Miss  Jack — I  mean  mamma — don't,"  said 
Orrie,  looking  symjiathizingly  at  Disbrowe.  "  Don't 
you  see  you  are  making  him  leel  bad  ?  Wliy  can't  you 
do  what  he  wants'^     I'm  sure  /would!"' 

*'  Jji'avo,  Orrie !"  said  Air.  De  \'ere,  hiughing. 

"  Would  you,  really,  Orrie  'C  said  Jacquetta. 
"  Will  you  come  and  live  with  us  if  I  do'" 

"  I  guess  I  will,"  said  Orrie,  with  sparkling  eyes, 
"if  grandpa  lets  me  !     May  I,  grandpa f 

""  Decidedly,  my  dear !  Come,  prevail  on  mamma 
to  name  some  day  next  week  !" 

'•Now,  mamma,  do! — why  can't  you?  Just  see 
how  solcum  he  looks.  I'm  sure  he  would  do  as  much 
for  you,  if  you  asked  him.  Aunt  Gusty,  coax 
mamma  I" 

"  My  dear  Jacquetta,  let  me  prevail  on  you  to  make 
Alfred  happy,"  said  Augusta,  with  one  of  her  ftdnt, 
cold  smiles.  "  Life  is  too  short  to  be  spent  in 
waiting." 

"  O  Jacquetta,  be  reasonable  ! — do,  for  once  in  your 
life  !     Let  it  be  next  Thursday,"  pleaded  Disbrowe. 

Jacquetta  laughed  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Well,  bo  it  so — a  willful  man  must  have  his  way; 
but  if  you  rejicnt  before  the  honeymoon  is  over,  don't 
say  it  was  my  fault." 

"  Repent !  Ah,  my  darling !  you  know  I  will  never 
do  that !" 

''  Indeed,  I  don't  I  Think  of  Socrates.  How  do 
you  know  but  I  will  turn  out  a  secoiul  Xantippe  on 
your  hands?     I  consent,  but  on  one  condition." 

"  What  is  tiiat  ?  Name  it,  and  it  shall  be  fultilled, 
though  it  were  half  my  kingdoMi." 

"Ah!  that  sounds  very  line;  but  I  know^  the 
proverb  :  '  Good  promisers  are  bad  performers.'  How- 
ever, we  will  see.  Our  marriage  must  be  strictly  pri- 
vate.    I  will  have  no  pomp,  or  fuss,  or  parade.     If  I 


h] 


!, 


W'.^ 


1 

}1 

'  '• 

S-M 

J :  ' 

H 

i|l  i 

1 

'nl' 

i 

U 

f-  * 

.  fM 

■' 

i.    1 

k 

'  "i 

1 

1^ 

400 


/l^"    OAT)    FOE. 


am  to  1)0  aconrtcs?;,  I  will  put  (>\l  my  ijreatness  as  long 
as  pus.sil)iu.  And,  Hccondly,  in.steud  of  g(jing  to  tlio 
continent  after  tlie  ceroniony,  von  will  take  me  to 
America.  1  want  to  see  the  land  of  my  birth  and  the 
home  of  my  childhood  on(;e  more." 

"It  sliall  he  done,  on  the  honor  of  an  earl.  Have 
you  any  further  commands  for  your  slave  f ' 

"No — yes;  I  want  to  see  Norma — 1  mean  Lady 
Austrcy — this  moi-ninr^.  So,  thouufh  it  is  yet  unfasli- 
ionably  early,  J  will  take  the  privilege  of  a  friend,  and 
dress  immediately  for  the  vi?-it." 

"  By  the  way,  Jacquetta,"  said  Disbrowe,  as  she 
arose  to  go,  "  when  am  1  to  learn  the  mystery  of  this 
strange  intimacy  between  you  and  Norma?  Austrey 
told  me  his  wife  fainted,  or  something,  the  moment  she 
saw  you."' 

"  j\ly  dear  sir,  is  it  such  a  very  unusual  thing  for  a 
ladv  to  faint  suddenly,  that  I  am  to  be  brouijjht  to  task 
for  it?  Lady  Austrey  might  faint  a  thousand  times, 
and  Jacquetta  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"  True  !  But  when  J^ady  Austrey  immediately  gets 
into  a  state  of  mind,  and  insists  on  seeing  Jacquetta, 
surely  that  lady  has  something  to  do  with  it,  then." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  dying  to  know,  I  see  ;  but  I  shan't 
tell  you — at  least  till  Norma  gives  me  leave.  So,  for 
ten  minutes,  au  7'evoir.''''     And  the  bright  little  vison 


was  gone. 


Half  an  hour  later,  the  whole  party  drew  up  before 
the  stately  portal  of  Tremain  House,  and  were  ushered 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  they  found  Norma  alone. 

"  My  dearest  Norma  !" 

"  My  dear — dear  Jacquetta  !""  And  the  two  friends 
were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms. 

"So,  my  lord,  the  wanderer  is  found,"  said  Lady 
Austrey,  when  the  first  greetings  were  over,  turning, 
with  a  smile,  to  Disbrowe. 

"  Yes ;  and,  if  I  do  not  mistake  greatly,  we  have  to 
thank  your  ladyship  for  it." 

She  laughed. 


AN    OLD    FOE. 


401 


Y  gets 
itta, 


kfore 
liercd 
ilone. 

rieiida 

iLady 
Ining, 

Ive  to 


"  How  i3  this,  Madame  Lelia?  Have  yon  been  tell- 
ing  ?"  ^ 

"  Not  I ! — tlioni::li  it  was  not  for  want  of  coaxini::,  I 
can  assnre  yon. 

"Ko;  we  have  l)een  hivisliing  cntrciities  on  her 
wliich,  if  she  had  not  a  heart  as  hard  as  the  nctlier 
mill-stone,  she  could  n«jt  resisl.  AVill  Lady  Austrey  be 
more  nierciful,  and  explain  the  mystery  f ' 

She  l)hishc(l  and  looked  at  Jaequetta. 

"Shall  I  tell  him?" 

''Just  as  you  like.  ITc  will  die  of  a  rush  of  curi- 
osity to  the  brain,  if  yon  don't." 

As  she  spoke  the  door  opened,  and  ^[rs.  Tremain 
and  her  daughter  entered.  Cordial  greetings  were  in- 
terchanged ;  and,  liudiiig  the  rest  ^\'ere  in  the  midst  of 
an  animated  conversation.  Norma  beckoned  to  Dis- 
browc  and  made  room  for  him  beside  her. 

"So  you  would  like  to  know  how  Jaequetta  and  I 
came  to  know  each  other." 

"Really  I  must  plead  gnilty,  I  fear.  You  knew  her 
before  yon  met  in  Italy  V 

"  Yes — let  me  see — nearly  a  year  before." 

"  Why— how  ?" 

"Well,  yon  needn't  exclaim  in  that  way,  and  draw 
attention — it  is  simple  enough  when  you  come  to  un- 
derstand it." 

"  But  my  dear  madam,  a  year  before,  she  was  in 
America !" 

"  I  know  it !     So  was  I !" 

"What!" 

"Why,  how  thunderstruck  you  look  !  Is  my  visiting 
that  country,  as  well  as  other  people,  such  an  unheard- 
of  thing  T 

"  But  really — why  my  dear  Norma,  I  never  heard 
you  were  there,"  he  cried,  completely  astounded. 

"  Very  likely — yet  I  was  there,  nevertheless.  How 
is  Captain  Tempest,  and  my  friend,  (rrizzle  Ilowlet, 
and  Mr.  Ilowlie,  of  the  Mermaid  Inn  ?" 


402 


yliY     OLD     FOE. 


U 


>  'H     i  ■*' 


ii!i; 


il'.'"^ 


Slic  lialf  laugliod,  yet  there  was  an  nnusnal  flush  on 
her  jx'arly  face.     l)i>l)r()\ve  sat  jiuite  with   amazement. 

'' Dumb,  1  see  !  J'v  tlie  way,  my  loi'd,  have  you 
heard  of  your  Spaiiisli  friend,  fJacinto,  hitely  V 

A  liij^ht  broke  ujxm  liirii !  Witli  a  iuilf  repressed 
cry  lie  nearly  sprani^;  from  his  seat. 

"Good  heavens!  were  you — could  you — ?  O 
Norma,  was  it  yon  !" 

She  was  crimson  to  the  temples,  yet  she  met  hie 
startled  eyes  firmly,  and  said  '"'Yes!'''' 

"  And  T  never  knew  it — never  suspected  it.  Norma 
— Norma!  what  an  idiot  I  have  been  !'' 

"  Hard  words,  my  lord ;  but,  of  course,  you  know 
best." 

"  And  you  were— -von  followed  me  there  !  Did  Jac- 
quetta  know  it,  X<»i'ma^" 

'"  "^'es  ;  her  keen  eyes  discovered  me  at  once  ;  and  I 
told  hei-  all.  Do  you  understand,  now,  the  scene  in  my 
room  ^" 

"Oh!  cverythinfr  is  as  clear  as  day  now !  Good 
Heaven  !  how  1  should  have  been  so  blind  !  Does  your 
father  know,  Norma  V 

"No;  no  one  knows  but  you  an.d  Jacquetta;  I 
ought  to  have  told  Georo-e,  1  su})pose  ;  but  really  I  felt 
ashamed  to  tell  him  1  had  made  such  a  fool  of  myself. 
*  Where  iirnoranee  is  bliss,'  you  know,  "tis  folly  to  be 
wise.'  Perhaps,  also,  you  understand  the  mystery  of 
the  painting  now,  too  V 

"  Oh,  everything  is  as  clear  as  noonday  ;  but  this  is 
60  straniie  I  can  scarcely  ])elieve  1  am   not  dreaminir!" 

"  Think  it  a  dream,  if  you  like.  1  wish  it  was. 
But,  n>y  lord,  don't  flatter  y^jursclf  too  much.  You 
know  how  intensely  romantic  i  always  was,  and  it  M-as 
quite  as  much  for  the  sake  of  the  adventure,  as  for  the 
sake  of  Captain  Disbrow'e,  that  1  went.  It  had  haunted 
my  imagination  for  years,  an  escapade  like  that;  and 
when  the  op])ortunity  ollcred,  1  seized  it.  raj)a  was 
abroad  on  the  Continent,  and  would  not  return  until 
you  did  ;  so  it  was  easy  enough  feigning  a  trip  to  Scot- 


AN    OLD    FOE. 


403 


iusli  on 
e  merit, 
e   you 

pressed 

-?     O 

met  Lis 

Norma 

1  know 

)id  Jac- 

;  and  I 
e  iu  my 

I  Good 
les  your 

letta;  I 
y  I  felt 
myself, 
y  to  be 
stery  of 

til  is  is 
inino:!" 

it  was. 
You 

it  was 

for  the 
launted 

it ;  and 
■  |)a  was 
until 

o  Scot- 


land, and  goinij;  to  America  instead.  You  remcnd)er 
my  disiiuisc,  my  dyed  hair,  and  walnut-barked  com- 
plexion, and  how  completely  it  changed  me,  when  you 
failed  to  recognize  me?  At  Southampton  1  think  it 
was — I  first  met  Captain  Tempest;  and  tinding  he  was 
to  sail  the  next  day,  took  passage  with  him  to  America. 
A  few  days  after  my  arrival,  we  met;  Jac(pU'tta  dis- 
covered my  secret;  I  told  her  my  history;  audi  hough 
she  bhuned  me  for  my  wild  freak,  yet  she  consented  to 
keep  my  secret.     And  so— ;^Vi/,s'/" 

lie  smiled,  and  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  glance. 
She  met  it  with  one  half  scornful,  half  shy. 

"  Xo,  my  lord  ;  have  no  doubts  on  the  subject.  I 
have  completely  got  over  my  school-gii'l  penchant  for 
the  dashing  Guardsman.  J  love  my  husband  with  my 
whole  heart,  and  him  alone.  When  am  I  to  congratu- 
late Lady  Earnecliife,  my  lord  ?" 

"  Next  week,"  he  answered,  his  eyes  filling  with 
love  and  pride,  as  they  rested  on  Jacquetta. 

"  Ah,  I  am  glad  !  Dear  Jacquetta,  how  happy  she 
will  be." 

"  I  hope  so — I  trust  so.  If  the  devotion  of  a  life 
can  nudvc  iier  so,  she  M'ill  be  indeed !" 

Some  other  visitors  were  announced,  as  he  spoke, 
and  our  ]")arty  arose  to  go. 

Mr.  Do  Yere  had  ]iromised  to  take  Orrie  some- 
where. So  they  set  oil'  on  foot,  while  Augusta  and 
Jacquetta  entered  the  earPs  brougham  to  be  driven 
home.  As  they  drove  on,  laughing  and  chatting  gayly, 
their  attention  was  arrested  by  a  mob  that  had  gathered 
round  a  drunken  wonum  in  the  street.  A  sudden 
cheer  aro^e,  as  they  approached  ;  j^nd  the  horses,  oidy 
half-tamed  things  at  l)est,  saw  fit  to  take  fright ;  an<l 
the  instant  after,  were  dashing  along  like  mad.  Dis- 
browe  strove  to  check  their  mad  carcjer,  but  in  vain  ; 
and  they  flew  like  lightning  on  in  the  direction  of  AVest- 
minster  Bridge,  threatening  every  moment  to  dash  the 
carriage  to  pieces.  People  cleared  the  road  in  terror, 
and  let  them  dash  on  to  certain  destruction-  -without 


404 


AN    OLD    FOE. 


m\ 


Hj 


lU' 


4-; 


malviiig  any  attempt  to  .stop  tliem.  Angnsta  lay  in  a 
(loud  s\V(K)ii,  and  Ja(j(|uetta  sat  white  as  niarblv3,  but 
perfectly  still. 

They  were  on  the  bridi>;e;  and  tlie  passengers 
shrank  to  either  side,  in  dismay,  when,  suddenly,  a 
man,  whose  eagle  eye  caught  sight  of  the  faces  within, 
uttered  a  wild  shout,  and  springing  forward,  heedless 
of  danger,  seized  the  nearest  lu:>rse  by  the  bridle,  and  in 
spite  of  their  mad  plunging  and  rearing,  hekl  him  in  a 
grasp  of  iron  for  one  moment.  Tlie  next,  a  cry  of  ]»or- 
ror  broke  from  the  crowd  :  he  was  down,  trampled 
under  the  feet  of  the  furious  animals,  but  a  dozen 
hand''  now  held  them  fast ;  and,  the  next  moment,  Dis- 
browe  was  out  of  the  carriage,  forcing  his  way  through 
the  crowd  to  where  the  wounded  man  lay.  Crushed, 
trampled,  bleeding,  a  fearful  spectacle,  lie  lay  tiiere, 
with  the  pitying  crowd  bending  over  him. 

"  Is  he  dead  V  cried  Disbrowe,  kneeling  beside  the 
bleedini>:  form. 

"  No,  my  lord,"  said  the  man  he  addressed,  touch- 
ing his  cap.  "  Not  <lead  yet,  but  soon  will  be. 
Skull  fractured,  I  think." 

"  lie  must  be  ren'oved  instantly,"  said  Disbrowe, 
starting  up.     "  Do  any  of  you  know  him  f 

No ;  no  one  did.  He  was  a  sailor,  they  thought, 
and,  very  likely,  a  stranger. 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  Avounded  man's  eyes  opened, 
and  fixed  themselves  oti  Disbrowe. 

"Lelia — Lolia!     Where  is  Lclia?"  he  cried. 

That  voice!  It  reached  Jac(pietta  where  she  sat; 
and  the  next  moment,  with  a  startled  cry  of  grief  and 
horror,  she  was  bonding  over  liim. 

"O  Alfred!  O  Heaven!  it  is  my  father!" 

"  I'm  done  for,  Lelia !  It's  all  up  with  old  Nick 
Tempest,  at  last,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand,  with 
something  like  a  smile. 

Jac(pietta  wrung  her  hands. 

"O  Alfred,  cati  nothing  be  done?  Must  ho  die 
here — in  this  dreadful  place  V 


Ji'ij 


in  a 


AN     OLD     FOE. 


405 


bo  a,„,,n.  the  crowd,  euterell  aft.,  l.in.i,  "  "  , 

RUSH  ^  I 'T,r  ■''-■■'•'''•?';"'  *'",  '"■""s''^""-  -i,..,v  A ,: 


i 


i 


n 


wm 


406 


ALL     THING ti     HATH    AN    END.'' 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  All  things  hath  an  end." — Provekbs. 

"  Wc  are  born;  we  laugh — we  weep — 
We  love— we  droop — we  die." — Cornwall. 


f  ■  .'■  ?..■! 


m 


^i-'- 


u  .i„--=„;..,,=,  -^-Q  ^1^^^.^  .g  ^^  1^^^^^^  doctor  ?" 

•'  None,  my  lord  ;  he  must  die.     No 
Immau  power  can  save  him  now !" 

"  I  knew  it  myself,  and  could  have  told 
you  so,"  said  tlie  wounded  man.  "  AVlien 
a  man's  skull  is  fractured,  he  is  not  likely  to  go  cruis- 
ing round  the  world  much  longer.  I  say,  doctor,  how 
many  hours  before  Fm  in  ]x>rt  i" 

"  You  may  ])ossil)ly  live  four  or  five  liours — not 
longer,"  said  tlie  pliysioian,  as  he  arose  to  go. 

''Humph  !  short  notice  to  settle  one's  accounts ;  but 
it  must  do,  ]  su])pose.     Lelia!" 

"  Here,  fatlier,"  she  answered,  kneeling  beside  him  ; 
"shall  I  send  for  a  clergyman  i" 

"  For  a  clergyman  !  No.  What  do  you  suppose 
Japtain  N  ick  Tempest  has  to  do  with  a  clergyman  ? 
Come  here,  my  girl,  and  tell  me  :  for  the  wrong 
your  old  father  has  done  you,  can  you  forgive  him 
row  ?" 

"  From  the  bottom  of  my  heart — as  freely  as  I  hope 
to  be  forgiveii,''  she  earnestly  answered. 

"  And  you,  my  lord — they  say  you  are  a  lord  now? 
We  have  not  been  very  good  friends  hitherto  ;  but  will 
you  shake  hands  with  the  rouii-li  old  sailor  before  ho 
goes  V 

Ho  held  out  Ids  hand,  and  Dislu'owe  took  it  between 
both  liis. 


r-.r-'-i 


<( 


ALL     THINGS     HATH    AN    END:' 


407 


e. 


Ko 


ive  told 
'  When 
)  cruis- 
jr,  how 

rs — not 

ts ;  but 

c  hiiii ; 

[nppose 

;yinan  ? 

wrong 

Ivo  hiui 

I  hope 

now  ? 
I) lit  will 
[ore  ho 

letween 


"  Tlien  we  arc  friends,  my  lord  ?" 

"We  arc,  with  nil  my  heart." 

"  Thank  you.  It  was  all  my  fault.  I  was  a  rough 
customer,  I  know ;  hut  the  world  and  I  never  were  on 
very  good  terms,  and  1  got  reekluss,  knocking  about 
its  sharp  corners.  It  has  given  me  some  pretty  hard 
raps,  njy  lord,  until  it  has  made  mo  what  you  see  me 
now.  Ihit  I  am  not  likely  to  trouble  it  nmch  longer. 
Lclia,  you  have  been  an  actress  since  ;  are  you  one 
yet  r 

"  No,  Captain  Tempest,"  intcrrnpted  Disbrowc  ; 
"she  is  Lolia,  the  actress,  no  longer.  A  few  days  will 
make  her  Countess  of  Earneclilfe  !" 

"Ah!"  said  the  captain,  while  his  dull  eye  lit  u]). 
"A  countess — niy  daughter — Old  Nick  Tempest's 
daughter  a  countess  !" 

tSometliing  ludicrous  in  the  notion  seemed  to  strike 
him  ;  and  he  laughed  outright. 

"Do  not  mind  that,  lather — do  not  think  of  it. 
Remember  how  few  are  the  hours  you  have  to  live," 
said  Jacquetta,  gravely. 

"  LoTiix  cnouii;h  for  what  I  have  to  do.  Tell  me, 
Lelia — or,  rather,  do  you  tell  me,  my  lord,  were  you 
ever  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  (.-ertain  Norma  Macdon- 

ald  ^^"  .        .  . 

"  Yes,"  said  Dis'urowe,  surprised  at  the  question. 

"  Well,  wdiy  did  you  nc»t  marry  her." 

"  For  many  reasons,  captain.  8he  refused  me  and 
married  another." 

"Is  she  now  in  England'!!" 

"Yes." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her.     Send  for  her,  Lelia." 

"Why,  father,  do  you  know  her^" 

"  No  ;  but  i  shoaki  like  to.  Have  you  ever  met  her 
Lelia  V 

"  Often,  father.     She  is  like  a  sister  to  me." 

Again  the  captain  laughed.  .Jacquetta  turned  to 
Disbrowe,  with  a  look  that  plainly  said  she  feared  his 


I.  > 


408 


ALL     THINGS     HATH    AN    END:' 


He 


\r 


brain  was  wandering.     The  captain  saw  it,  and  read  its 
meanini^. 

"JSu,  I  \\\n  not  insano,  Leila.     I  know  wliat  I  am 
sayinii;.     Li'li;},  Norma  Macdonald  is  3'onr  lialf-sister  !'' 
"Father!" 

"  It  is  true.  Listen  :  yon  know,  when  you  were  a 
little  child,  your  niotlier  eloped,  through  the  machina- 
tions of  that  accursed  hag.  Grizzle  liowlet  V 

"  Yes." 

"  Lelia,  it  was  with  Randall  Macdonald — her  father  ! 
You  both  had  the  same  mother!" 

Jacquetta  and  Disbrowe  were  dumb  with  surprise. 

"  Ask  this  man — her  father — if  it  is  not  true  ;  and 
let  him  deny  it  if  he  dare.  Lelia,  you  and  jSorma 
Macdonald  are  sisters!" 

"  I  felt  it — I  knew  it.  I  was  sure  we  were  not 
strangers!"  said  Jacquetta,  in  a  low,  breathless  voice. 

"  This  is  most  wonderful !"  exclaimed  Disbrowe. 
"  I  know,  now,  why  Mr.  Macdonald  would  never  speak 
of  Norma's  mother.  But  to  think  that  she  and  Jac- 
quetta should  be  sisters  !  I  wondei-  what  Austrey  will 
Bav !" 

"  Where  is  you  little  daughter,  Lelia — where  is 
Orrie?"  asked  the  captain,  after  a  pause. 

"  Here,  in  London  ;  but  not  in  the  house  at  present. 
Would  you  like  to  see  her?" 

"  Yes ;  1  always  liked  the  little  one,  somehow.  How 
came  she  here  ?" 

"  Mr.  I)e  Verc  brought  her." 

"  Mr.  De  Vere,  of  Fontelle  ?     Is  he  here,  too  ?" 

"  Yes,  ho  and  his  daughter." 

"  Ha  !  his  daughter !  By  the  way,  that  reminds  me, 
I  have  sometliinii;  to  sav  about  that  daui^-htej*.  '  Thero- 
by  hangs  a  tale.'  She  has  appeared  in  trouble  lately — 
has  she  not  V 

"  Trouble !"  exclaimed  Jacquetta,  "  she  has  been  like 
a  galvanized  corpse  for  the  last  two  years — dead  in  life !" 

"  Ah  !  just  60 !     Well,  I  know  the  cause." 


Vi 


(( 


ALL     THINGS     UATH   AN   END. 


dOO 


am 


?5 

me, 
icro- 

ly- 

like 

!5J 


"  You  !"  exclaimed  Diril)rowe. 

"  Yes,  me  ;  and  I  can  minister  to  a  mind  diseased, 
too.     JJo  yoiL  know  the  cause,  my  lord  i" 

"  Yes.'"' 

"  Then  she  thinks  she  lias  married  her  brother,  does 
she  not  V 

Jacquetta  uttered  an  exclamation  of  horror. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  slie  may  set  her  mind  at  rest,  then ;  she  has 
done  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"AVIiat!" 

"  It  is  true.  I  have  it  from  Till— old  Till,  you 
know,  Grizzle's  brother — and  he  ought  to  know,  if  any 
one  docs." 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  Poor,  uidiappy  Augusta!  But 
are  you  sure,  Captain  Temj)est  C 

"  Certain  !  ()ld  Till  will  conlirm  the  story  an}-  day, 
if  you  only  threaten  hiiu  with  a  little  hanging  !" 

"  Where  is  he  to  be  found  f 

"At  the  'Sailor's  liest,'  St.  Giles.  You'll  have  no 
trouble  in  finding  him.  You  see,  Old  Grizzle  knew 
about  the  marriage,  and  trumped  np  the  whole  story  to 
frighten  the  young  lady,  and  save  hersell'." 

"  Well,  but  xVugusta's  husband  himself  acknowl- 
edged  its  truth." 

"  And  he  thinks  it  is  true.  You  see,  mv  lord,  there 
were  a  number  of  other  little  urchins  taken  prisoner 
with  the  little  i)e  Vere  at  the  same  time — some  of 
"whom  died,  some  were  sent  to  another  tribe,  and  some 
were  ke[)t.  Young  De  Yere  died  a  short  time  after 
beitig  taken  captive;  but  ho  was  always  a  sickly  little 
codger,  Till  says." 

'''i'lien  she  really  marrie<l  one  of  those  cai»tivesr' 
Yes;  but  no  relation   of  hers.     Jlis  real  nauie  is 


a 


Durand — Mark  Duranil ;  and  he  escaped  just  as  Grizzle 
related.     The  young  ladv  is  all  rii-'ht,  so   far  as  marry- 
ing  her  brother   is  concerned,     lund   out  Till,  utid   he 
will  tell  you  so,  if  you  only  frighten  him  ])roperly." 
"  Heaven  be  praised  for  this  !     it  will  be  uow  life 


V 

V 

« 


f 


*4l 

I 
t 


Iff 


1. 1 


m 


l^'-' 

V . 


iiU^' 


410 


.**ALL     THINGS     UATII    AN   END:' 


to  Au<^nsta.  Captain  Tempest,  what  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude she  will  forever  owe  to  you !" 

''  To  me  ?  Nonsense  !  Give  me  a  drink,  Lelia — I 
am  parclied." 

She  held  a  drink  to  liis  hps,  and  lie  drank  eagerly. 
He  had  spoken  so  rapidly,  that  he  had  exhausted  him- 
self, and  already  he  was  beginning  to  sink. 

"And  Augusta  was  married?"  said  Jacquetta,  in  a 
low  voice  to  Disbrowe. 

"  Yes ;  that  was  her  secret.  lie  was  poor,  and  they 
were  married  m  private.  Grizzle  told  her  that  morn- 
ing, you  remember,  he  was  her  brother,  and  she  be- 
lieved her." 

"  Poor  Augusta !  Where  is  her — her  husband  now, 
I  wonder  '^" 

"  1  do  not  know.  Can  you  tell  us.  Captain  Tem- 
pest, where  this  Mark  Durand  is  now?" 

"I  saw  him  in  Paris  three  weeks  ago;  most  prob- 
ably you  will  rind  him  there  yet." 

"  How  strangely  all  tliese  things  have  come  to  light ! 
How  mysterious  arc  the  ways  of  Providence !  Oh, 
father!  if  you  had  only  told  this  long  ago,  how  much 
misery  it  might  have  saved  !" 

"  I  did  not  know  it  long  ago  myself ;  though,  if  I 
Lad,"  said  Captain  Nick,  in  ])arentliesis,  "it  would 
have  been  all  tiie  same,  most  likely.  I  knew  Grizzle 
had  some  power  over  Miss  De  Vere ;  but  wdiat  it  was, 
I  didn't  know  until  old  Till,  who  came  this  voyage 
with  me,  babbled  in  his  cups,  and  let  the  murder 
out.  He'll  confirm  it,  you'll  see;  for  he's  as  arrant  a 
coward  as  ever  lived.  1  never  had  any  particular  love 
for  the  De  Veres,  and  might  have  kept  the  secret  still, 
if  I  had  not  been  hipped  to  death  in  this  fashion.  How- 
ever, better  late  than  never — eh,  Lelia '(  And  so  you 
are  going  to  be  a  countess,  my  girl,  though  you  are 
Old  Nick  Tempest's  daughter." 

"  Dear  father,  do  not  think  of  these  things,  now. 
Do  try  and  compose  your  mind  for  the  dread  hereafter 


ft-' 


"ALL     THINGS     HATH    AN    END:' 


411 


if  I 
,'onld 
•izzlo 
was, 
'ago 
rder 
Imt  a 
love 
Istill, 
llow- 
you 
are 


now. 
ifter 


you   arc  hastening  to.     Hemembcr  how  shoii;  are  the 
hours  you  have  to  Hve." 

"The  hist  act  of  the  drama — isn't  it,  Leha?  As 
for  composing  my  mind,  what  good  will  that  do  ?  You 
don't  sup])ose  I  expect  to  go  to  heaven — do  you  ?  No, 
as  I  have  lived,  I  will  die ;  so  say  no  more  about  it. 
Have  you  sent  for  your  sister,  Lelia'^" 

"Yes,  father;  she  will  be  here  directly." 

"  And  you — you  will  not  leave  me,  Lelia,  to  the 
last — will  you  ?" 

"  No,  father." 

"  Ah !  I  am  glad  you  can  say  father ;  I  like  to  hear 
it  from  your  lips.  Do  you  know  you  look  strangely 
like  your  mother  to-day,  Lelia  ?  There  is  the  same 
look  in  your  eyes  I  have  often  seen  in  hers.  My  poor 
lost  Lelia!  buried  in  the  wide  sea!  Oh,  that  accursed 
wretch.  Grizzle  llowlet!" 

"  Do  not  think  of  her — do  not  speak  of  her.  Here, 
drink  this." 

It  contained  a  narcotic,  and  gradually  he  fell  into  a 
troubled,  feverish  slumber.  Still  he  held  Jacquetta's 
hand,  as  though,  even  in  sleep,  he  feared  to  lose  her, 
and  at  intervals  murmured,  brokenly,  the  name  of  Lelia. 

Disbrowe,  in  obedience  to  a  whisper  from  Jac- 
quetta,  left  the  room  in  search  of  Augusta.  He  found 
her  in  her  room,  lying  on  a  couch,  still  weak  and  faint 
from  the  effects  of  her  recent  fi-ight. 

As  gently  and  tenderly  as  might  be,  he  unfolded 
the  truth ;  but  before  he  had  iinished  speaking,  she  lay 
without  life  or  motion  on  the  floor,  where  she  had 
sank  like  a  snow-wreath.  Shocks  of  joy  seldom  kill, 
however ;  and  he  was  too  accustomed  to  see  Augusta 
faint  to  be  much  alarmed  by  it  now ;  so,  bathing  her 
temples  and  dialing  her  hands,  he  waited  until  she  had 
recovered  again. 

"  AVhat  is  it — what  have  you  told  me  ?"  she  cried, 
clinging  wildly  to  him. 

"  Good  news,  my  dear  Av  ^usta  ;  you  may  be  happy 
once  more." 


( 


413 


''ALL     TUIXGS     HATU    AN    END^ 


PI  % 

m 

m 


"And  lie  is  not — is  not — " 

"  C'eiiainly  not.  Von  have  been  imposed  npon  froin 
first  to  last  by  onr  fair  friend,  Madam  ilowlet.  (Jlieer 
np,  An_u:;nsta  !     Let  nio  fgo  yon  smile  onee  more." 

"  I  have  abnost  foriijotten  tbo  way.  l>ut,  ()  consin 
Alfred!  if  tbero  sbould  bo  some  mistake;  if  tbe 
man — '' 

"■  Tbis  man  is  dyin^^'-,  Anirusta,  and  in  bis  sober 
senses ;  so  tbcre  can  be  none.  To  make  '  assurance 
doubly  sure,'  bowever,  I  bave  sent  my  servant  and  a 
Bow  street  runner  in  searcb  of  old  Grizzle's  brotber, 
wlio  knows  tbe  wbole  jilfair;  so,  in  a  sbort  time  bis 
testimony    will   convince  yon.'- 

lie  smiled  briii'litly  bimself,  as  be  spoke;  but 
Angusta  dropped  ber  bead  on  bis  sboulder,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  I  will  leave  yon  alone,"  be  said,  gently.  "  AVben 
tbis  man  comes,  1  will  send  for  von." 

As  be  ])assed  from  tbe  room,  be  met  in  orma  ascend- 
ing tbe  stairs. 

"  lias  anytbing  bappencd  ?  Yon  sent  for  me  ?"  sbe 
said,  willi  a  startled  look.     "Jacqnctta — " 

"Is  quite  well  ;  but  an  important  matter  Las  come 
to  ligbt,  in  wbicli  yon  are  closely  concerned.  Perbaps 
I  bad  better  tell  you  before  you  go  in.  Captain  Tem- 
pest is  dying  in  tbe  next  room,  and  it  was  be  desired 
to  see  you." 

''  Captain  Tempest !    O  my  lord !  does  be  know — " 

"Ko,  be  does  not  know  your  secret.  But,  my  dear 
Kornia,  wbat  will  you  say  wben  I  tell  you  tbat  you  and 
Jacciuctta  are  sisters  V 

"  Sisters  !     How  ?     Wbat  do  you  mean,  my  lord  ?" 

"  Tliat  you  bad  tbe  same  motber — Captain  Tem- 

K?st's   wife.      Do    you   know    your   motber's    name, 
orma?" 
"  It  was  Lelia.     I  do  not  remember  ber ;  but  I  saw 
it  written  in  one  of  ber  books.     But,   O  Lord  Earne- 
clilTe !  wbat  bave  you  told  me  ?    Captain  Tempest's 
wife  1" 


''ALL     TIIIXGS     HATH    AN    END.'' 


418 


\ps 


:ci 


)) 


3ar 
Ind 


>'> 


nc. 


law 

IIG- 

it's 


'  "  Yonr  father  was  never  married,  Norma ;  and  now 
you  know  why  lie  never  would  speak  of  your  mother. 
You  and  Jacquctta  are  sisters.  A  dying  man  atiirms 
it.     Do  you  doubt  it,  Norma  V^ 

"  No,  my  lord,  straniT^e  as  it  seems,  I  yet  do  not 
doubt  it.  And  this  is  why  he  wanted  to  see  me?  Oh, 
Alfred !  I  am  glad — I  am  glad  that  I  am  Jacquetta's 
sister !" 

"  And  60  am  I.     Shall  we  go  in  now  ?" 

They  entered  together. 

"  Ah !  you  have  come !  Come  close  and  let  me 
look  at  you.  Yes,  yes ;  you  are  Lelia's  daugliter.  You 
look  more  like  your  dead  mother  than  she  does.  Are 
you  willing  to  acknowledge  Nick  Tempest's  child  as 
your  sister,  young  lady  ?" 

"  Willingly,  joyfully !" 

"  Tell  your  father — tell  Randall  Macdonald — I  for- 
gave him  at  last.  He  was  not  so  much  to  blame  as  the 
she-devil  who  forced  them  both  to  it.  Will  you  shake 
hands,  young  lady,  for  your  mother's  sake  ?" 

She  laid  both  her  white,  delicate  hands  in  his  large, 
brown  palms,  and  a  bright  tear  fell  with  them. 

"  For  me  !"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  wonder.  "  Ho  I 
what  noise  is  that  ?     I  ought  to  know  that  step." 

A  shuffling  sound  of  feet  was  heard  without.  Dis- 
browe  threw  open  the  door,  and  old  Till,  in  charge  of 
a  policeman,  stalked  doggedly  in. 

"  Hallo,  old  comrade !"  said  the  captain,  "  Well 
met !  You  did  not  expect,  when  we  [lurted  this  morn- 
ing, to  find  me  on  the  road  to  Davy's  locker  so  soon. 
Where's  the  lady,  Lei  ia?" 

"  She  is  here.  Now,  my  man,  what  is  it  you  know 
concerning  this  young  lady  V^  said  Disbrowe. 

"  You  may  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  Till, 
for  I  have  told  already,"  said  the  captain.  "  Out  with 
it!" 

"Tell,  and  you  shall  go  free  and  unharmed — I 
pledge  you  my  word  and  honor.  Kef  use,  and  the  walls 
of  Newgate  will  hold  you  before  an  hour." 


I 
1 

41 


I 


H 
If] 


i 


wr 


414 


''ALL     TniNOS     IIATIl    AN    END.'' 


i 


I 


r'i^t 


1 1. 


I 


■A-  1 


iH 


r'li 

k 

'  <:.- 

'■'    ii 

^A 


!  ■<' 


pi 


Uli-- 
hi 


I 


Old  Till  was,  as  Captain  Is'ick  said,  a  very  white- 
livered  hero,  so  he  forth witli — rather  sullonlv,  thouiirh 
— bc.<niii  the  rceital,  addiiu^  that  the  father  of  youni; 
Duraiid  was  still  alive,  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most 
eminent  lawyers  in  Xew  York.  And  having  made  a 
deposition  to  that  elleet,  and  further  inl'ormed  them 
tliat  he  might  he  known  hy  a  peculiar  tattooing  in  In- 
dia ink  on  his  arm,  done  wlien  he  was  a  child,  ho  was 
allowed  to  take  his  departure. 

Captain  Nick  was  sinking  fast.  He  had  exerted 
himself  to  speak  and  listen  whilst  Till  was  ])resent;  but 
DOW  he  fell  back  exhausted  on  his  pillow,  a  cold  per- 
spiration oozing  over  his  face,  a  dark  livid  ring  encirc- 
ling his  mouth.  His  eyes  wandering  slowly  over  the 
faces  gathered  round  him,  and  rested  at  last  on  that  of 
Jacquetta. 

"  Going!"  he  said,  with  a  faint  smile.  "It  is  get- 
ting dark  and  cold,  Lelia.  Don't  cry  so.  I  will  bring 
you  no  more  squirrels  to  play  with,  as  I  used  to  do  long 
ago — you  were  a  child  then,  Lelia  ;  now  you  are — " 

"  Father,  father  !''  cried  Jacquetta,  through  her  fast 
falling  tears,  as  the  hand  she  held  grew  cold,  and  a 
dull  glaze  crept  over  his  eyes. 

"My  little  Lelia!" 

A  strong  shudder  passed  through  his  powerful  f  iwirie, 
one  arm  was  half  raised,  and  then  dropped  .^\^avily  by 
his  side. 

"  Gone !"  said  Disbrowe,  as  he  bent  over  him. 
"  Come,  Jacquetta,  let  us  go  ;  all  is  over  now !" 

And  now,  reader — my  dear  reader — draw  a  long 
breath  of  relief,  as  I  do,  for  our  tale  is  at  an  end.  Per- 
haps, though,  you  would  like  one  linal  peep  behind  the 
Bcenes  before  the  curtain  descends  to  nse  no  more. 

Look  then  !  One  year  has  passed  since  the  last  act. 
And  now  the  time  is  night ;  the  scene,  Disbrowe  Park. 
It  is  more  like  a  glimpse  of  fairy-land  than  ever,  this 
lovely  niglit ;  for  the  whole  stately  mansion  is  one 
vast  sheet  of  light.     The  beautiful  fountains  are  send- 


ALL     TUIXGS     UATIl    AX    END:' 


41.5 


by 

dm. 


'er- 

tl\G 

I  act. 
lark. 
Itliis 
I  one 
end- 


ing vast  jets  of  t^llver  sparkling  up  in  the  serene  inoon- 
liglit,  and  the  trees  are  l»ri'j^ht  witii  many  colored  lanijis, 
tliat  twinkle  like  niyrlad.-i  of  iire-ili(>«;,  and  ijive  the 
whole  seenc  an  air  of  cnchaiitniont.  Tin;  lamvl  walk  is 
one  blaze  of  iihmiination,  and  sweet,  delicious  straitis 
of  music  rise,  and  fall,  and  lloat  on  the  still  niij^ht  air. 
Carriai^e  after  carria<^e  rolls  up  the  broad  avenue,  and 
throngo  of  magnilieently-dressLMJ  ladies  and  stately  gen- 
tlemen pass  into  the  marble  hall.  ].a<ly  Earnecliire  has 
just  returned  from  the  "  land  of  the  free  and  the  home 
of  the  brave  ;''  has  been  ])resented  at  court ;  made  a  de- 
cided sensation  ;  and  to-night  gives  her  lirst  ball. 

See  licr  there  in  white  velvet,  frosted  with  seed- 
pearls,  sparkling  with  jewels,  and  lloating  in  lilmy 
pointdace — the  most  bewitching,  the  most  dazzling 
countess  in  the  peerage — receiving  her  guests.  And 
yet  she  is  our  own  Jac(pi;etta  after  all — the  same  spark- 
ling little  fairy  as  of  yore.  The  short  dancing  curls 
are  of  the  old  obnoxious  hue  ;  but  a  coronet  becomes 
them  wonderfully.  The  wicked  grav  eyes  sparkle  still 
with  the  ol<l  mocking  light  that  was  wont  to  madden  a 
certain  Captain  Disbrowe,  and  the  little  rosebud  mouth 
in  wreathed  with  the  same  entrancing  smiles  that  oik-o 
drove  the  dashing  Guardsman  to  the  verge  of  despair. 

lie  is  there,  too — the  Earl  of  Earneclille — hand- 
some, graceful,  and  elegant  as  (;ver,  watching  her  with 
a  curious  smile,  as  he  thiidvs  of  the  past.  A  ha])py 
man  is  Lord  Earnecliil'e — as  indeed  he  ought  to  be, 
with  such  a  rent-roll  and  such  a  wife. 

There  is  Lord  George  and  Lady  Austrey — the 
former,  languid,  nonchalant,  and  complac.ent  as  he 
strokes  his  mustache ;  the  latter,  one  of  the  belles  of 
the  room,  and  so  proud  nnd  so  fond  of  her  handsome 
young  husband,  and  a  powerful-lunged  young  scion  of 
the  aristocracy  at  home — who,  of  late,  has  made  his 
dthat  into  this  vale  of  teai's.  And  Lord  Geoige  is  so 
proud  of  that  baby,  though  the  feeling  is  mingled  with 
a  sort  of   deep  awe,  more   particularly  wlien  it  cries, 


I 


416 


ALL     TIILNGS     HATH    AN    END.'' 


which  it  sees  fit  to  do  pretty  often  ;  but  no  inducement 
can  persuade  liiin  to  liandle  it. 

Our  dark-eyed  friend,  Oi'rie,  is  at  scliool,  and  has  a 
strong  notion  of  irrowiiiii;  up  shortly,  and  marrying 
Frank — that  young  gentleman  still  writes  U.  S.  N. 
after  liis  name,  and  is  pretty  nnu^li  of  the  same  notion 
himself;  oo  it  is  very  prohablo  j\liss  Oriole  will  bo 
Mrs.  Francis  Do  Vere,  some  day  in  the  "  fullness 
of  time." 

It  is  a  long  step  to  Xew  Jersey  ;  but  you  and 
I,  with  our  se\  en-league  boots,  can  take  it.  At  Fontelle 
still  lives  Mr.  Do  Vere,  happy  in  the  happiness  of  his 
dauijrhter  and  new-found  son.  And  Mrs.  Durand — how 
strange  it  seems  to  cull  Augusta  th;it ! — is  as  happy  as 
the  day  is  long;  and  feels  it  all  the  more  after  the 
fiery  crucible  through  which  she  has  passed. 

Our  old  and  estimable  friend,  Grizzle  Ilowlct,  hav- 
ing, with  her  two  sons,  committed  an  atrocious  robbery, 
suddenly  found  the  old  inn  too  hot  to  hold  her,  and 
decamped  for  tlio  Far  West  with  Blaise — the  hopeful 
Kit  being  caught,  and  sentenced  to  prison  for  life. 
And  since  then  nothing  has  ever  been  heard  of 
her;  and  so,  to  both,  requiescat  'hi pace. 

As  for  Mr.  Ilowlie  and  his  cheery  little  help-meet, 
they  kept  the  ]\Iermaid  for  many  a  dny  after  that ;  and 
that  pleasant  hotel  throve  and  llouiished  like  a  green 
bay  tree.  And  if  ever  you  visit  the  remote  and  face- 
tious region  of  Xew  Jersey,  good  friends  of  mine,  just 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  its  ruins,  which  tradition  saith  are 
to  be  seen  to  this  day.     And  so,  reader,  Farewell. 


,;* ,  ■'  M 


THE  END. 


'i» 


I 


life. 
I'd  of 

meet, 
,  and 
green 
^  f ace- 
e,  just 
til  are 


I 


ej^^_ 


18S2. 


NEW    BOOKS 

AND    NEW   EDITIONS, 


lUXl.NTl.Y    ISSUKU    I.Y 


G.  W.  Carleton&Co.,  Publishers, 

Madisoa  Square,  How  York. 

<■) 

Tlie  rublisher?;,  on  receipt  of  price,  send  any  book  on  this  Catalogue  by  mail,/<'j/rz^v_/'>v 

{) 

All  h  indsoinely  bound  in  cloth,  with  j^ilt  hacks  sultalle  for  libraries. 

Ms:ry  J.  Holmes'  Wcrkr:. 


Tempest  and  Sunshine ',  i  ^o 

English  Orphans i  50 

,  Homestead  on  the  Hillside i  50 

i  'Lena  Rivers i  50 

I  Meadow  Brook .  1  50 

i  Dora  D*ane     i  ;o 

;  Cousin  Maude i     o 

I  Marian  Grey i  5-) 

Edith  Lyle i  51 

i  Daisy  Thornton i   ro 

Chateau  D'Or (New)  i  50 


Darkness  and  Daylight f  i 

Hugh  Worthington i 

Cameron  Pride i 

Rose  Mother i 

Ethelyn's  Mistake i 

Millbank 1 

)  dna  Browning i 

West  Lawn 1 

Mildred , 

Forrest  House i 

Madeline .(New) i 


Marion  Harland's  Works. 


Alone   $  1  ;;.o 

Hidden  Path 1  50 

Moss  Side I  50 

Nemesis i  30 

Miriam i  50 

At  Last I  50 

Helen  Gardner 1  5^ 

True  as  Steel (Neu) i  50 


Sunnybauk      .$t 

Husbands  and  Homes i 

Ruby's  Husband i 

Phemie's  'lemptation 1 

'1  be  Empty  Heart i 

Jessamine i 

From  My  Youth  Up i 

My  Little  Love , i 


Charles  ricli«ns- 1."!  Vols.-"  Ta' lo+on's  Ec'ition." 


5^' 


David  Copperfield .*i 

Nicholas  Nickleby i 

Little  Dorrit     i 

Our  Muti'al  Friend ..    1 

Curiosity  Shop — Miscellaneous,    i 
Sketches  by  B02— Hard  Tim'^s..   i 

Great  Expectations— Italy 1 

;    Oliver  Twist— Uncommercial. , .   i 
cts  of  Dickens'  Complete  Works,  in  1=;  vols  —  felc^  nt  h;ill"call  buuliii..^-]. ..   50 

i:  nRiista  J.  Fvans'  Novels. 


Pickwick   and  Catalogue §1 

Dcnibcv  and  Son i 

lileak  rlo\ise    i 

Martin  Chuzzlcwit    i 

Barnaby  Rudtje— Edwin  Drood.  i 
Child  s  Erpland— Miscellaneous  i 
Cliristma'.  Books — Two  Cities. . .   i 


Beu'ah " $1 

Macaria i 

Inez I 


7j 


t:t.  i;imo $3 

Van  lit  i 2 

Infelice .(New). 2 


.so 

5" 
5" 
50 
=0 
30 
50 
50 
5" 
50 
50 

5" 
•S" 

50  ■ 

50 

5" 
■'"> 
50 
50; 

..oi 

5" 

5" 

50 

30  ' 

5"\ 

5"! 

50! 

CO  I 

00 
00 
00 


"TS 


r 


mi 


i  I 


G^lV^CARLETON  ^  CO:S  PUBLICATION'S. 
May 


Agnes 

Guy  Earlscourt's  Wife $i 

A  Terrible  Secret i 

Norine's  Revenge t 

Silent  and  True   r 

Heir  of  Charlton i 

Lost  for  a  Woman — New i 


Fleming's    Novels. 


50 

50 
50 


A  Wonderful  Woman $1 

A  Mad  Marriage i 

One  Night'3  Mystery 1 

Kate  Danton i 

Carried  by  Storm i 

A  Wife's  Tragedy  ...  (New) i 

of   IVhist. 


The    Game    __     

Pole  on  Whist— The  English  staiuiard  work.     With  the  "  Portland  Rules." 

Miriam    Coles    Harrin. 


50  The  Suther lands $1 

50  St.  Philips I 

50  Round  Hearts  for  Children i 

50  Richard  Vandermarck i 

50  Happy-Go-Lucky..   .(New) 1 

Cook    Book. 

Mrs.  A.  P.  Hill's  New  Southern  Cookery  Book,  and  domestic  receipts $a 

Julio  P.    Smith's    Novels. 


Rutledge $1 

Frank  Warrington   i 

Louie's  Last  Terra,  St.  Mary's.,  i 

A  Perfect  Adonis i 

Missy— New  i 

Mrs.    Hill's 


50 

50 

so 

S3 

50 

5° 

75 

50 
50 
50 
50 
50 


Widow  Goldsmuh's  Daughter,  $1  50 

Chris  and  Otho i  50 

Ten  Old  Maids i  50 

His  Young  Wife i  5,0 

Lucy— New 1  ^,Q 

Victor 
Les  Miserables — Translated  from  the 

Captain 


The  Scalp  Hunters $t  50 

The  Rifle  Rangers i   50 

The  War  Trail i  50 

The  Wood  Rangers 1  50 

The  Wild  Huntre'ss i  50 

A.    S*    Roc's 

True  to  the  Last §1  50 

The  Star  and  the  Cloud i  50 

How  Could  He  Help  it  ? r 


The  Widower. $1 

The  Married  Belle i 

Courting  and  Farming x 

Kiss  and  be  Friends i 


lingo. 

Frenf  h.     The  only  complete  edition $1 

Mayne    Reid. 


The  White  Chief. $1 

The  Tiger  Hunter 1 

The  Hunter's  Feast i 

Wild  Life i 

Osceola,  the  Seminole i 

Select    Stories. 

A  Long  Look  Ahead $1 

I've  Been '1  hinking i 

To  Love  and  to  be  Loved i 

rBickens. 


Charles     

Child's  History  of  England— (JaiU-ton's  New  " .\,/ic>ol  F.iiitiou^''  Illustrated 

Hand-Books    of    Society. 

The  Habits  of  Good  Society— Tlio  nice  points  of  taste  and  cood  manners $1 

The  Art  of  Conversation — lor  tlio-e  wlio  wisli  to  be  agreeable  talkers i 

The  Arts  of  Writing,  Reading  and    Speaking— For  Self-Improvement 1 

New  Diamond  Edition — l'',le;:aiitly  bound.  3  volumes  in  a  box 3 

Carloton's    Popular    Quotations. 

Carleton's  New  Hand-Book — Familiar  (luoiations.  with  tlu-ir  Authorship $1 

Famous    Books— Carletnn's    Edition. 

Arabian  Nights  — llhistraiions ^i  00    I     Don  Quixote— l)ore  Illustrations.  .$i 

Robinson  Crusoe— Gribut.     do...     100    |    Swiss  Family  Robinson,      do...   i 

Josh    Billings. 

His  Complete  Writings— With  I'lo^raphy,  .Steel  Portrnit,  and  100  Illustrations.  $2 

Old  Probability — I'cu  Comii:  Alminax,  1070  to  1S79.     IJound  in  one  volume i 

Allan    Pinkorton« 


Model  Town  and  Detectives .';;i  50 

Strilters,  Communists,  etc 1  50 

Criminal  Reminiscences,  etc... .   1  50 

Gypsies  and  Detectives 1  50 

A  New  Book i  50 


Spiritualists  and  Detectives. . .  $1 
Mollie  Maguires  and  Detectives  1 

Mississippi  Outlaws,  etc i 

Eucholz  and  "Detectives. .    1 

R.  R.  Forger  and  Detectives..,,  i 


Stolen  Waters.     (Inverse) .$1  50 

Broken  Dreams,     (inverse) 1  50 

Compensation.     (Inverse) i  50 

Terrace  Roses 150 


Celia    £.    Garflnor's    Novels. 


Tested $1 

Rich  Medway  s  Two  Loves 1 

A  Woman's   vViles \ 

A  Twisted  Skein.. .(In  verse)....    i 


50 
so 
50 
SO 


50 

50 
50 
50 
50 
50 

SO 
so 
50 

00 

00 

CO 
CO 

00 

50 

oo 
00 

50 

50 

eo 

50  i 
50  I 
50  1 
50 

5" 
SO 
50 
50 


\   l~    1 

Hi' 

m 


i  ■; 


s. 


$1  50 

I  50 

I  50 

I  50 

I  50 

•■) I  50 

3."....        75 

$1  50 

I  50 

n I  50 

\ '  50 

J I  50 

s $3  so 

$1  so 

I  50 

»  50 

I  so 

$r  50 

«i  50  ' 

I  so 

I  50  I 

I  SO 

I  SO 

$1  50 

I  50 

I  50  i 

ated..$i  00  \ 

i 
$1  00  I 

I    CO    I 

I   00   ! 

3  00  I 

^ $1  50  ' 

ions.  .$1  oo  ; 

do.  .  .     I    CXD    , 


tions 

.$2 

50 

c.  . . . 

50 

s. . . 

$1 

:tives  1 

50 
50 

50 
50 

:s... 

.  I 

$1 

5" 

3.... 

,   I 

50 

50 

:J.... 

I 

SO 

t:^ ~-^=^-~±^±jLJ^l/ca  no  v^ 

>rown  on  the  World*^    ^^^^    ^^^^^l^^P^~^^i 

Bitter  Atonement       ''  ^o     Brow'^ie's  T®^**"*' 


— .  .  wo  Love<i 
Peerless  Cathleen 


50 
I  50 


Faithful  Margaret 
Curse  of  Everleigh.-; 


Complete  Comic  Writin^s-^^^*f,!Jas     W      d. 

I^ic^ens.  Parlor  T«hle  Albu^m'^-rtf^Lt^^'^kens:'  ^"'  -■"--'-- $: 

-_  "'"Strations— \vi 


descriptive  text....      c. 


*2  50 
book) 
armonies..  ' 


$1  50 


Our  Saturday  Nights ^  ^o     Brick-dutt   ^^^'°n" 


:  ) 


v:sr 


G.    IK     CARLETON'    &'    CO.'S    PUBLICATIONS. 
Ml"cellaueaus    Works, 


Dawn  to  Noon— ]!y  Violet  i''aiic...5i  50 

C'jniiia.;ci.''s    Fate.            l)o.           .,  i  30! 

How  to  Win  in  Wall  Street  ....  i  00  1 

Poems  — l!v  .Mrs    Hi  .omriclil  .Muoic.  15)1 

A  Bad  Boy's  First  Reader 10' 

John  Swiiitons  Travels 25  i 

Sarah  Bernhardt— Her  Life 25 

Arctic  Travel  —  Is.iac   I.  Hayes i  50  ; 

CoUego  Tramps — F    A.  Stokes...,  1  50  \ 

H.    IVl.   S.   Pinafore— rlie  I'lay io  I 

A  Steamer  Book— W.  T".  Helmuth.  i  00  i 

Lion  Jack  — r.y  1*.  T.  15;irmim i  50  J 

Jack  in  the  Jungle.       ])(j i  50  ' 

Gosp:lsin  Poetry— K.  H.  Kinihall.  i  50  i 

Southern  Woman  Story— I'eniber  75  j 

Madame  Le  Vert's     Souvenirs   ...  2  00  j 

He  and  I —.Sara n  H.  .Stelibins 50  i 


Annals  of  a  Baby, 


Victor  Hugo— Autnl)iusra|ihy $1 

Orpheus  C.   Kerr-  4  vols,  in  one.      2 

Fanny  Fern   Memorials 2 

Parodies— (■.  H.  Weblj  (John  I'aul). 
My  Vacation —     Do.  I  )o. 

Sandwiches — Arteiiuis  Ward 

Watchman  of  the  Night 

Nonsense  Rhymes— W.  H.  Ucckctt 
Lord  Bateman  — Cruik^liaiik's  111.. 
Northern  Ballads — V..  I..  Anderson 

Beldazzle  Bachelor  Poems 

Me— Mis.  Speiii  er  W.  Coe 

Little  Guzzy — John  Habberton.. .  . 

Offenbach  in  America 

About  Lawyers — JcfiVeson 

About  Doctors —         Do 

Widow  Spriggins — Widow  Hedott. 


Sub  R0SI — Clias.  T.  Miirr.iy ijjit  50 

Hilda  and  I--K.  liedell   lienjamin.  i  50 

Madanie — l^'rank  I.ee  Benedict 1  50 

Hammer  and  Anvil.        Do.     i  50 

Her  Friend  Lawrence.     Do i  50 

AC   lie  ;e  Widow— (,'.  II.  Seymour  i  50 

Shiftless  Folks — Fannie  Smith  ... .  i  50 

Peace  Pelican.              I  to.           i   sn 

Prairie  Flower  — F.nicrson  I'enn.-tt.  i  50 

Rose  of  Memphis— \V.  C".  I'alkner.  i  50 

Price  of  a  Life— R.  i'orbes  .Sturu;is.  i   50 

Hiddei  Power  -I'.  H.  'J'lbbles     ..  i  50 

Two  Brides  — licrnavl  (1'keilly  ...  i  50 

Sorry  Her  Lot— Mi>s  (Irant i  00 

Two  of  Us  -Calista  Halsey 75 

Spell-Bound   -.Mexandre  Diimas...  75 

Cupid  on  Crutches— A.  H.  Wood. .  75 

Doctor  Antonio— Ci.  Rulllni i  50 

Parson  Thorne  — Hnckiimham i  50 

Marston   Hall  — I,.  Kll.i  I'.yid i  50 

Ange  — I'loieiice  Marryatt i  00 

Errors  — Riilli  Carter i 

Heart's  Delight— .Mrs.  Aklerdice..  i 
Unmisakable  Flirtation — (larner 

Wild  Oats  -Florence  Marryatt 1 

Widow  Cherry  -1}.  I,.  Furjeon... 

Solomon  Isaacs.             Do.          ....  50 

Led  Astray— Octave   Feiiillet i  50 

She  Loved  Him  Madly— llorys...  i   50 

Thick  and  Thi;i—Mery i  5'^ 

So  F.iir  yet  False— Cliavctte i  5,0 

A  Fatal  Passion— (.'.  I'.ernnrd i   50 

Woman  in  the  Case— li. 'riiriicr. .  i  50 

Marguerite's  Journal  —  I'Hr  (iirls. .  i  50 

Edith  Murray — Joauiui  Mathews.,  i  <»> 

Doctor  Mortimer — I'.uinie  liean.. .  i   S') 

Outwitted  at  Last— .S.  .A.  (lardner  1   50 

Vesta  Vane— I,.  Killer,  R 1  50 

Louise  and  I — C.  H.  i")odge 1  50 

My  Queen  —  I'y  .Samlcitc i  50 

Fallen  among  Thieves — Kayne...  i  50 

San  Miniato — Mrs.  Hamilton 1  (« 


Do 50  i  How  to  Make  Money — Davies.. 

Miscellaneous    Novels. 


All  For  Her— A  T.^Ie  of  New  York.. $ 

All  For  Him— I'.y  .11  For  Her 

For  Each  Other.  Do 

Pcccavi—  Fniiiia  Wendler 

Conquered — I'.y  a  New  .'\iitlior 

Janet— .An  I''.iit;lish  novel 

Saint  Legcr  — kichard  15.  Kimball. 
Was  He  S'lccessful  ?  Do. 

Undercurrents  of  Wall  St    Do. 
Romance  of  Student  Life.  Do.     . 
To-Day.  Do.     . 

Life  in  San  Domingo.  Do.     . 

Henry  Powers,  Banker.      Do. 
Baroness  of  N.  Y. -Joaquin  Miller 
One  Fair  'Woman.  Do. 

Another  Man's  Wife— Mrs.  Hartt 
Purple  and  Fine  Linen— Fasvcett. 
Pauline's  Trial   -1,    D.  Courtney.. 

The  Forgiving  Kiss— M.  Loth 

Flirtation — A  West  Point  novel.... 

Loyal  into  Death 

That  Awful  Boy 

That  Bridget  of  Ours 

Bitterwood— liy  M,  A.   CSreen 

Phemie  Frost— Ann  S.  Stephens.. 

Charette — An  American  novel 

Fairfax — John  Esten  Cooke 

Hilt  to  Hilt,  Do 

Out  of  the  Foam.  Do 

Hammer  and  Rapier.  Do 

Warwick— IJy  M.  T.  Walworth...  . 
Lulu.  Do.  .... 

Hotspur.  Do.  

Mormcliff.  Do.  

Delaplaine.  Do.  .... 

Beverly.  Do.  .... 

Kenneth — Sallie  A.  l?rock 

Heart  Hungry — Westmoreland 

ClifTord  Troupe—         Do 

Sitcott  Mill— Maria  D.  Deslonde.. 
John  Maribel.                Do. 
Love's  Vengeance 


50 

00  ' 

00  I 

50! 

50 

25 

50 

CO    I 

25 

00 
00 

CO    I 
00 

50 

50 

00 
00 
00 
50 
50 
50 

7s 
7S 
75 
75 
75 
75 
75 
50 

50 
50 
50 
50 
75 
ro 

50 
5" 
50 
50 
50 
SO 
50 
50 
50 
,50 

75 

75 

75 

75 

'5  I 

75 

75 

SO 

50 

50 

50 

75 


ir,' 


all. 


'.S*. 

^ 

I  50 

Dlie.        2    CO    1 1 



2    00 

^aul). 

I    50 

• 

I    50 

25 

.... 

'    50 

;ckett 

1     CO 

III.. 

25 

crson 

I  00 

I  00 

50 

11.. .  . 

I  00 

. . .  .      ] 

5" 

I   50 

«  5"- 

:(!ott. 

I   50 

;s...  . 

I  50 

'ork..$ 

I    CO 

I  00 

t  00 

'   50 

t   50 

.       ■   .  . 

[   50 

iball. 

•   7t 

o. 

[   75 

0. 

1  75 

o. 

t   75 

0.        . 

'   75 

0.       , 

I   75 

o.      . 

t   75 

liller 

'   SO 

t   50 

I  50 

•cett.    1 

50 

I   50 

h.... 

'   75 

1 

I  ro 

'   50 

5" 

.    ... 

50 

I   50 

ens.. 

!    50 

'    50 

t    SO 

I    50 

I    50 

.... 

t    50 

h...  . 

'  75 

.... 

1   75  1 

.... 

t   75 

.... 

t  75 

.... 

'   75 

.... 

'   75 

I   75 

J.... 

1   50 

t   50 

ide.. 

I   SO 

I   50 

75 

